"Stanley. I'm tired. I'm so tired."

?!

Lightning turned to the sound echoing from the curio shop. Raising an eyelid, he peered inside and looked around the ramshackle old store.

He knows just who's saying those things.

Inside may be dark, but even he could see Lizzie's shadowy outline, the old Model T facing a wall, or more specifically a picture of Stanley, her deceased husband.

It was hard to see, but she was shaking as usual, and her eyes seemed much more squinted than usual, as if she were struggling to stay awake.

"Lizzie? Are you okay?"

Hoping the sudden comment wouldn't give Lizzie an engine attack, he braced for impact-but thankfully Lizzie didn't keel over, instead she continued facing that image of the town's patriarch.

"I'm tired, Stanley," she repeated.

Lightning looked around once more, and drove a little closer to Lizzie, but not too close.

"...It's Lightning. I-is something wrong?"

He could see that she was barely struggling to keep her eyes open, but even then they were fixated on the picture. That picture of her dearly beloved, departed Stanley.

His buck-teeth grin seemed to glow, adding a calming tone to the otherwise somber setting.

"I'm...tired," the old Model T repeated again.

"I know, Lizzie...I-it's okay...Y-you can rest." Lightning gave a sheepish smile, hoping Lizzie would turn to face him, but she didn't.

She stood-albeit rickety-firmly at the picture.

"Oh, Thank you, Stanley. Thank you. Where are you?" Again, she hardly turned.

Lightning wasn't sure what to do, breaking the illusion might send Lizzie into some sort of distress that might kill her-the old car was so frail she looked she'd fall apart with only a nudge.

"...I'm...I'm right here," Lightning wouldn't dare impersonate Stanley, it was too insensitive, but he still responded to her pleas.

"C-can you come closer?"

Lizzie held out a thin, shaky wheel, reaching for the large framed picture. She seemed so pitiful. It was difficult to see her like this, when she usually either slapped bumper stickers onto the rears of unsuspecting cars, or flirted with her customers.

"I...yes. Of course."

He edged even closer to Lizzie, their fenders nearly touching.

"Thank you, dear..." She finally looked at him, smiling.

Did she even know it was Lightning here, not Stanley?

Lightning bit his lip, "Ah...Lizzie. You really should rest. Your eyes are red..."

"Red? Red? Is he okay?"

"No...I mean, yes, but...never mind. You need rest, come on, Lizzie," this time he nudged her very, very gently.

"...66 is the mother road. The-the road of flight," The old Model T smiled.

"Pardon?"

"John Steinbuick. You remember him. What an interesting fella. A bit indimitating, but welcoming anyway."

Lightning blinked, not exactly sure who she was talking about, but he did understand the route 66 part, "A-ah, yes, of course."

"Good-night, Stanley," Lizzie looked at the race car once more with a sleepy smile, but sad eyes worn down by tears.

"G-good night, Liz," Lightning smiled as well, a little worriedly.

He wasn't sure if she'd actually live through the night.