Mill Town Idling, Chatper 1

He parked his 15 year old truck parallel against a crumbling curb, and shutting the engine off, it dieseled on for a moment or two longer, serving to make two passer-by pause and look to see where the cause of the noise was coming from. As the motor continued to chug along, he leaned across the seat, and kissed his girlfriend. She banged open the door, and stepped out, the cold air suddenly coming in, making the day feel even colder. He wondered if he should start the truck back up to get a little warmer, but knew it would probably be hesitant to start so soon after being allowed to rest. He watched as she walked into the clinic, one of those places that caters to the market that may not provide their correct name, but always provides cash, and he fidgeted.

There were lots of things to fidget with in his old truck. If he remembered his science class correctly, which he knew that he may not have, his truck could have gone to the moon and back, if there were there a road to do so. Time had taken its' toll, and it showed in the appearance. Every tire different and all bought used, the windows often didn't roll down, and the radio, it's finest accessory, was bought from some guy whose favorite phrase was "Hey man, it just fell out of the back of the delivery truck!" He fidgeted with the radio, finding no songs he liked, and he fidgeted with the seat, trying to get comfortable.

The day was grey, a perpetual cloud cover seemingly hovering over the town. A damp chill sort of rolled down the streets, smothering what life was still left in this small old mill town. The big paper mills had all closed down when his father was growing up, and when the gates had closed, the town had shriveled, taking the shine away, leaving the streets lined with a crust of dirt, the curbs beginning to crumble. The few businesses still left were ones that sold items of cheap quality, and the shoppers drifted in and out, no purpose seemingly in mind. He always hated coming to this town, finding it depressed him in many ways, not all of which he could define. It wasn't just the reason why he and his girlfriend came here, or that fact they skipped school to do so. Nor was it the never ending grey skies blending the greyed building all into one object, shapeless and emtionless. It was all of these, and something he knew he couldn't quite put a finger on, but knew it was really important.

He waited for her to come out of the clinic, and looked down at his clothes, the dirty pants, the worn out boots, and the stained, unbuttoned shirt. He matched his truck: worn out, unkempt, and both at the same age. Why was it that at this young age, he already felt washed up, worn out, seen-it-all, and was losing his ambition to do what his dreams still begged him to do? He watched a pair of guys pull up across the street from him, their landscaping truck loaded with mowers and shovels, and something made him watch... ...tbc...