“These farm towns always have the best restaurants,” he’d said.
It had seemed like a refreshing break from the freeway. All she’d wanted back then was an open-face sandwich like her gran used to make. But so far, they hadn’t found so much as an open gas station. The gas gauge hung an eyelash over empty.
“Maybe we should ask for directions.”
His jaw thrust out. “I’m not lost.”
“No, I know you’re not. It’s just that—hey look, an antique shop.”
“Thought you were hungry,” he said.
She was hungry to see another living soul. “Just park,” she said.
As she walked up the quiet street, under the sagging awnings, to peer in the filthy window of the vacant shop, she started to realize: there was no one to ask. She turned around and noticed the film of dust layered on all the parked cars. “Does something seem wrong to you?”
This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw, a new weekly 150-word fiction prompt based on Google Maps. To read more or to submit your own, click the froggy button: