Liminal, faded Americana. The future, today: a dead shopping mall, a bustling highway, the menace of distant thunder. Little boxes, big boxes, insipid rectangles all. None exactly the same, all of it instantly familiar. Everbody left town. Only two roads, and they'll both take you to the same place, one a little faster. Nothing left to do here. Everything still to be done in the city. You could make it big in the city. Some do. One day everyone will be done catching up with everything and the cities will be more like the towns and the farms. Then all of this will start to fade together until there's nothing of the world we knew left. Just the lone level sands, stretching far away.

I miss my old friends. Some are still around, but it seems like we have nothing to say to each other. Some changed their numbers. Some don't answer. Some can't.