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Weekly Contest #272
I drive by it every day from work, right before the bridge, on that desolate road pinched by trees. Work allows me to lock it away in my mind, fall into a routine, but on that road I know I’m approaching it. I know where it is and feel it emanating before it's even in sight. My eyes twitch at the thought of it and I desperately reel them back into position, but not before I make note of the decay–lost promise. It still has its eyes… Eventually, I make it back to the gravel driveway to my first floor apartment of a dingy old house, rot fester...
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