Tuesday Writing Prompt: Going Somewhere?
Mike Dwyer has graciously allowed me to poach on his territory by writing a Tuesday Writing Prompt. I’ll set the scene, and you all continue the story in the comments section.
Mississipppi, July, sweat glistening on his forearms as he spun the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, the convertible’s tires crunching on the gravel parking lot outside the cafe. The Squeeze Inn, he read on the peeling wooden sign perched on the tiny shack’s roof. He glanced up the street, at the first shabby houses, then at the cornfields behind the cafe, where lowering clouds were skulking toward the town. “It’s fixin’ to rain,” he said. She didn’t respond, as she hadn’t for the last fifty miles. He glanced again at her, and still it was like looking at the sky. “Well, anyway, it’s someplace for lunch.”
They crossed the lot and entered, the screen door squealing and thudding against the jam. Inside, in the gloom, they blinked to adjust their eyes, seeing nothing but daubs of pale color turned toward them. She stepped behind him, half-hiding herself. A bulky middle-aged man twisted his body around to look more closely at them, the only movement since the door had slammed shut behind them. A long look, before he spoke. “You all look kinda familiar.”
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