Mile 81

American small town. A noisy highway. An abandoned parking lot with a little shop—where one day a mysterious car of an unknown model arrives and comes to a standstill, as if waiting, as if luring a victim. People pass by on their way—so many different types: kind and cruel, irritated, tired, full of spirit. Some of them stop and approach the mysterious machine—and back to their own cars they no longer return. Perhaps only children can see the danger lurking behind the windows smeared with dried mud; perhaps only children will find something to oppose it.