![]() ![]() Still, see how he sighs when that man, the one whose daughter is quiet and, sadly, a little slow, pulls into the space next to his? See how he watches the girl get out of the car? She's a skinny little thing, always hunching over a bit, like she's taller than she thinks she is. He's a strange one, that's for sure, living alone, always with that car, not really ever talking to anyone, but every place has one weirdo, and at least car guy cleans up after himself. Car guy has been here since you moved in, but you never see him except for sunny weekends, when he works on his car. ![]() That man in the far building, the car guy, is outside, a pile of parts scattered on the black ooze of the parking lot around him. One dog lies sleeping in the sun, twitching its tail when a child comes over and pats the top of its head before running away, giggling. ![]() The stairs are chipped but solid, the washing machines always work, and management picks up the trash once a week.Ī few mothers sit outside their buildings, resting in fraying lawn chairs and talking over each other while their children run around, playing. Shady Pines is nice enough, if it's all you can afford. There's also a drugstore and tiny restaurants, every one opening and closing within months. Across from a strip mall with nail places and a cash-loan store that advertises on TV all the time. Shady Pines Apartments, four shabby buildings tucked off the road near the highway. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |