Alberta Gothic
There is a new Tim Hortons up the street. There is a new Tim Hortons down the street. You drink your second double double. Everything is as it should be.
You park your car next to a white truck. There is a larger white truck behind you. When you return, there is a white truck in the space where you thought you left your car. Did you ever have a car? All the trucks seem taller.
It is the first and final week of fall, and it is snowing. As the sun sets, small figures in many layers of winter clothing knock on your door. You are not certain which ones are in costume. You give them all full sized chocolate bars, just in case.
You begin a new job. You are not certain exactly what you do, but they pay you well. When you receive your first paycheck, the paper cuts your hand. Oil drips from your skin. It is better to look away.
There is construction everywhere, and you must detour from your detour. You see many workers, all in the same orange vests and hard hats. They all carry the same signs. They have no faces. The detour has returned you to where you started. No one has moved. You are not sure how many days have passed.
You drive past a field of canola. You drive past a field of wheat. You drive past a field of cows. The ritual is complete. You are safe for another day.
It is so hot the pavement melts your shoes. You go inside for a glass of water. When you return outside, it is snowing. The water in your glass freezes instantly. You wonder if it will rain later.
deepintheshadyglen