As Will strolls down the deserted main street of Coalfield, the silence feels almost tangible. Each step echoes off the hollow storefronts, a reminder of how many had left, chasing lives that the town could no longer sustain. He barely notices the faded "For Sale" signs anymore; they are as much a part of the landscape as the dusty pavement beneath his boots.

Passing the old pizzeria, he pauses, a sharp pang of nostalgia hitting him. The windows are boarded up, and a stark sign hangs in the window: "Closed". It was here he and his friends had plotted their futures over greasy slices, futures that seemed galaxies away now. The laughter and clinking glasses are just ghosts here, like everything else.

He needs to leave. He needs to breathe air that isn’t thick with despair and lost dreams. But as always, the reality of his grandmother's frail health and their financial strain shackles him firmly to this dying town.

Just then, he notices someone standing a little way off, phone in hand, eyes shifting from the screen to the closed sign of the pizzeria. Probably another disillusioned soul or a lost tourist.

Approaching, he can't help the wry twist of his lips as he says, “If you’re looking for a bite, you might want to lower your expectations. Around here, even the food finds a way to leave town.”