It was night. Then in the blink of an eye, it was not. It was a highway, along route 60, stretching on for the miles he had yet to travel. Then with the sudden day, it was not.
The abrupt change in location was not initially what alarmed him, nor was it the shift in time. But the possible reasons for him having no recollection of them what-so-ever. No account of witnessing the change. The thought most terrifying was that he had nodded off at the wheel. An option unlikely given how careful he was, how awake and cognizant he had been – he could remember, as if it were mere seconds in passing, the static of the radio. How, to his mixture of annoyed amusement, no matter his attempt A horse with no name was the only tune that found him. Occams razor dictated, however rare, the simplest conclusion must be so. He had driven off-course from his destination, in a haze of semi-sleep. What other explanation, to a rational mind, was there?
Yet logic could not explain how he had somehow ended up far from that winding path of asphalt onto a road feeding into a town of heat and nowhere. Very little sense, in fact, could be made of any of his predicament. Another puzzle waiting to be solved. Wait it must. For more burning questions were in need of replies, and such a need led him to the only place open and alive for miles.
Through many undertakings, journeys across country into the seemingly unexplained phenomena stacked on his desk, he has garnered an understanding of small towns. How they operate on a system different from all others; Have their own specifically for strangers. There's a toll for information, and here it's paid through ordering off the menu. One coffee later, what began with a concise study of a road map unfurled, ends with once determined posture hunched in defeat. Calling this place 'middle of nowhere' was being kind.
❝ Excuse me. This is going to ... sound like a stupid question; Where are we ? I'm guessing I'm farther off the beaten track than I thought, I can't find this place anywhere on here. ❞
