Where was she going? She had no idea. She took a right on Wisconsin Avenue. The county dump was north, wasn’t it? She typed “county dump” into Maps, but it didn’t come up. There must be another name for it. County disposal heap or waste facility or something. She typed in everything she could think of, but there was nothing. She slammed the phone on the dashboard. Stupid thing. She pulled out into traffic again, and drove till she got on the highway. It felt good to be driving. She turned the music to something rhythmic that made the car thump. She got off in Gaithersburg, where she thought the dump must be. That’s where she’d have put it. She drove down Shady Grove Road, passing the hospital. Was it legal to put them in the hospital incinerator? Maybe she could burn them at a park.

She typed in “park,” and drove to the nearest one, Seneca Creek. She drove past the trees that lined the long road into the park. A sign was up, but its lights were off. She could just make out the shape of the words: WINTER LIGHTS. The moon was out and surprisingly bright.

She didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean there weren’t people here. Kids having a few beers, lovers in the woods. If someone saw her, they might report her as doing something suspicious. She drove slowly, watching for signs of life.

The displays were still up from the holidays but they weren’t lit anymore. A teddy bear. A doll. A train. She imagined the signs all lit, all the beautiful colors, a wonderland of lights reflected in what was left of the snow.

She got out of the car at the playground. The swings cast long shadows in the moonlight. She sat on one, overlooking the lake down the hill. A lake, here, in the middle of nowhere. The reflection of the moon and the clouds played on the water’s surface. She backed up on the swing and pumped her legs, like a kid. It was strange to be at a park at night. Cold and strange. She felt oddly awake. As though she’d been asleep for years.

The White Elephant, she thought, out of the blue. She could take the films to the new house and burn them out back. Silly of her to drive all this way when the answer was two houses away.

By the time she got back in the car, it was nearly ten o’clock. Had Nick and the kids wondered where she’d gone? Probably not. She rolled down the windows on the highway. “I’m here!” she shouted into the rushing air. She sped down the highway, hoping, in a way, to get caught, but no one seemed to notice she was doing eighty miles per hour. Ninety.