We'd been driving through the desert for what felt like an eternity, following Charlie's latest spark of intuition.

I'm not trying to be purposefully vague with this description, only accurate. Somewhere along the highway my sense of time started to distort, so I can no longer be entirely sure of how much time exactly had passed.

Charlie and I were both admittedly irritable from spending too long together in such close quarters, so when we saw that Airstream glowing on the horizon,

I genuinely half expected it to fade into thin air as we approached, like a desert oasis from one of those old Looney Toons.

Before I could even climb out of the car, my partner called my name.

"This is it, June!" he declared with delight. "Or at least, we're close... closer than we've ever been."

Charlie's smile was so broad it glowed brighter than the trailer. I saw a light in his eyes that I thought long since extinguished, and I had not seen him this giddy in ages.

Note to self: look up who said

"Hope Springs Eternal."