The Shadow
He’s standing over there, in the corner. Don’t bother looking, you probably won’t be able to see him. Unless he wants you to, of
Mile marker 53, Highway 60. If you go, you’ll find things that used to be, boarded-up concrete gravestones for the dreams that died here. Some are obvious… the peeling paint on the Mexican restaurant sign, the fallen donkey cutout of the Burro Bar, the cracked empty pool