Two of my friends have a little gathering at their new house, a dilapidated trailer on the outskirts of a small city somewhere. The blue sky and dry air make it feel like a New Mexican desert. I am overwhelmed and rushed as I give my friends a hug. They are both in their underwear and dirty white t-shirts. They parade around the trailer showing me various gifts they've constructed for me out of hot dog buns and newspaper clippings. I feel grateful, but a bit jealous at the same time that they've put so much time and effort into making these gifts. I tell them I have to go. They pile hot dog buns into my arms.