In the year Grandad died, the highway extension came. The road through Possum Springs had been the only way to the skate park, but it gave us Donut Wolf. Grandad left me an apple cradle full of books. He loved ghost stories and quoted to himself in the hospital bed;

"They went looking for the gods, and died in lonely places."

On the last day, he sat up suddenly, and stared bug-eyed through the window at the old empty mill with it's window's half busted up. And then he turned to my dad and spoke with his eyes still wide;

"This house is haunted."

He said, and died.

Mae Borowski, a recent college dropout, finally got off the bus, and into the 'safe' yet decadent arms of Possum Springs. With a bag still around her shoulders, she walked into the spacious bus station. A large Mural on the wall proudly displayed Possum Springs' history. But Mae thought up of better uses for that space.

"Well, this is great. I mean I didn't expect a welcome home party or anything, but I figured that Someone would be here... Welcome home Mae."

Mae speaks to herself, wishing that someone else could've said that to her once she stepped off the bus.