I didn't think I would be here that long. Then again, I realized, I didn't have much hope of leaving any time soon, either. In fact, I didn't have much hope for anything at all, at the moment. I had less then twenty dollars in my pocket, and a change of clothes.
How far could that take me in a place like this? I supposed, hefting my carryall and taking a turn on the town's sleepy center, just far enough.
Climbing to the porch with a stomp of wooden footsteps, I found I was facing the town's general store. Across the street, a bank. A pair of abandoned lots to either side, and somebody's half-hearted attempt to convert one to a park. A series of clothing and shoe shops completed the town's main drag, and I was reminded of a 1950's era postcard.
A door slammed at my back, and I was startled. Spinning, I was surprised to find a deputy sheriff standing there, his eyes concealed by dark glasses. He was fat and old and scarred, like a bull walrus. I was instantly terrified of him.
"Hey, mister," he called, his words cast in my direction. I turned hopefully to see if someone were standing behind me. "You the owner of that broke-down piece out there on 241?"