It must be a strange weed the locals haven’t figure out how to kill. I see it climbing up the buildings, sneaking under windowsills and lacing dusty cars sitting on the side of the road. I put down Gabe’s PSP and look out the window. Farewell is a battered town, holding itself together with stubborn grit. An old town of old men and old women grown gray together. The temperature is dropping quickly as evening sets in. I can feel the air thinning, and I wonder if I would have noticed before, or if this is another new thing I can do better. I keep forgetting not to think. “It don’t stand out, that’s for sure,” Gabe says from the front seat. He crosses his arms behind his head. “Like all superheroes, we’ve got to live on the down low.” Tarren makes a noise in the back of his throat. I keep my gaze out the window, noting a Mom & Pop antique shop pressed between a KFC and a boxy off-colored Walgreens. The stores dry up, and the road becomes more playful, sneaking cracks and potholes under our wheels.
