First panel (wide), we see between the shoulders of a man and woman, we see a child’s tombstone against yellow and tan tones of a dusty wasteland, a blue sky beyond.
Narration 1: Back home there’s a sign, small but carved in stone.
Narration 2: And in words I can’t repeat, says “SHE’S GONE.”
Narration 3: We both set out to find you.
Second panel, pill bottles and beer bottles on a nightstand.
Narration 4: She went one way.
Third panel, car at cliff’s edge. You can see front tire near the edge of a cliff.
Narration 5: I went another.
Fourth panel, rear tire peels out.
Fifth panel, we the tires racing off the cliff.
Sixth panel, the cliff points ups like a ramp. The car looks like a DIY-space ship, with wings and a huge rocket taped to the trunk. The rocket is firing hard, propelling it forward. We see modification to the car to make it space ready, but cheaply, like masking tape over the edges of the door to keep oxygen in.
Narration 6: We both made mistakes.
First panel (wide), we see from behind the driver, someone who has something over his head like a bag, or a fishbowl, or something to keep oxygen in. Inside the cars or blue tones. We see past him, out the windshield, into a purple-toned starry space. The window has cracked in a big way.
Second panel (wide), we see from the passengers side, a hand formed the starry space beyond, a small, gentle hand belonging to a child, it reaching from the reader’s right to the left, reaching out. The driver (our narrator) is startled, in awe.
Third panel (wide), we see from outside the car which is traveling to our right, a child made of space and stars yet separate from it, kneeling on the hood, reaching into her daddy.
Narration 7: But I’m the one who found you.