Animals trapped in tiny hot cars.

I’d be crazy not to follow this. You see, there’s this itch that I have. I’ve had it for years—yet, as disappointing as it may seem, it never seems to fashion itself out. It’s beat on my head, for many years I’d say, tapping for a breath of air. A chance to live out, I guess you could say.
It’s nothing sinister, really, just a bit odd. But, let’s say, I see something that entices me—a car, a hobby, an emotion—I cannot help but itch that itch.