A man drives a thousand miles and lands in Mesquite, a desert town northeast of Vegas and tucked along a mountain corridor with Utah. He gets a room at a motel and prepares to look for an old friend. Woodrow by name, whereabouts unknown. But a deep inertia takes over and the best he can do is watch cable news and log entries in a journal called "Alone, with groceries," which is what he is, just sitting, waiting, and using the toilet. It's strange to be old and aimless, and lost without the company of a friend. Life is good when it's all in the past and soon forgotten.