He was always there. He was always in the back of her mind, haunting her, provoking her. Sometimes, if she tried hard enough, she could still hear his voice, still see his face, and still feel that feeling of falling desperately in love with Keith.

Sometimes, she thought maybe he would just appear. Another one of his disappearing acts. He would be sitting in his old yellow truck as she walked outside, he would be trying not to smile as she climbed into the passenger seat. They would drive.

In reality, she was driving virtually alone, trying to grasp on to the past. Trying to keep the memory of Keith alive through an old green suitcase, she drove. She was sure no one missed her back where she used to call home.

Sometimes, she thought she was the crazy one. Sometimes she thought about going back, about picking up a tennis racquet, and trying to remember the way it used to make her feel so empowered. Keith stole that empowerment when she became his. She was trapped by him. Her mind was cluttered with him, he wouldn't let her go, and she couldn't let herself go.

"Keith, ever thought about painting your truck . . . you know something besides yellow?" she would say, looking at the empty driver's seat.

She laughed. Keith didn't like when she said things like that about his truck. After all, she wasn't a truck girl, but he was a truck guy.

"I know Keith, I would never hurt your car," she teased, "I wouldn't hurt your honey bunches."

Sometimes she was jealous of the car. Of all the time Keith had put into fixing it. What about her? He couldn't fix her, so was so broken. She was just broken and lost without her bowling partner.

She went bowling sometimes. She wasn't any good. Keith was an expert of course. Keith.

Good old Keith.

He would have been a good father. When Dani cried, she knew he would have said something to make her smile. She would have been Daddy's girl. Danielle was going to be a truck girl, just like her dad, she decided. Yes she was, she'd be a truck girl.

After all, she grew up in a truck. The truck was their home, the only place where Natalie could feel sane.

She was sane of course, she was. She only pretended Keith was there.

Only pretended, just make believe.

She was a princess after all.

Princess of a yellow castle.