A solitary car is parked by a meadow where a young couple frolic with their toddler son. Seated on the car’s trunk is the couple’s daughter, maybe 9 years old, watching, her feelings unknowable. Is she jealous? A car approaches, and the girl gazes at the driver almost seductively. An accident happens and a death; a brief court hearing follows with the award of a lot of money. The couple give birth again, and a few years later, they are back at play in the field. Their daughter, now a preteen, watches from her perch on the back of their car as another driver approaches. A couplet from Kipling serves as the epigraph: “If any question why we died, tell them, because our fathers lied.”