I’m not sure why I am traveling through this town. I’m not sure why I didn’t take the backroads, like I usually do, instead of the state highway. I guess I like to freak myself out.
It’s rural. It’s ugly. This town has a few strip malls, filled with chain restaurants, and chain stores. There are exactly two gas stations, with a couple of stop signs and lights and a few fat, male, white cops slowly trailing behind the occasional bagged-pantsed, mohawked teen thrown in for good measure.
Oh, and that building…that gray bricked building which has had many, many stores in it, one or two locally owned, most not. The store turnover is so high there, it’s almost like a curse. I look at it and shudder. I don’t like to look at it, and I’m not sure why I just did. I speed past it as quickly as legally allowed, not wanting to get in a speed trap, not wanting to hear sirens.