Ahead of them, glowing like the dull throb of an alien spaceship from some 50's B-movie, there sat between one house and another the blinding lights of a 7/11 corner store. To its left ran a field that disappeared into the darkness, taking with it all traces of the looming power lines that cut cleanly through the suburb. Only the droning hum remained, smothering beneath it the noises of whatever hid within the dry, yellow grass.
At the base of the structure was a faux stone veneer that gave way to full, thin windows smeared with bug guts, grime, and tarry dust. It was here, and rotting on the ground alongside cigarette butts and push-pop carcasses, that an innumerable host of sun-bleached posters had been plastered without care. The closest copy, stretched thinly across the gaunt, flickering face of a shattered ATM, urged onlookers to take advantage of a two for one deal on reheated pizzas and watered-down soda pop.
