We were walking down a street in Oakland where plastic chairs and broken bottles pepper each side of the road. Every other building is abandoned; the streets seem to dissolve into the grass.
“We’re almost there,” Theresa said, detecting my uneasiness.
We stopped when we reached an overgrown field that inundates a massive abandoned church.
“This is where I slept,” she said.
“In there?” I ask, alarmed and pointing towards the church.
“No,” she laughs, “I parked here and slept in the car.”