“Afternoon, miss.” One fellow touched the brim of his green John Deere cap.

“Lovely weather,” the other said.

Courtney glanced skyward without thinking. Grey, nondescript clouds blotted out the sky. “Yes,” she said. “Lovely.”

Inside the store, crackling speakers spread easy listening through the aisles. The shelves rested in the same color-sapping haze as the rest of the town; they were well-stocked, but devoid of color, like the cornflake boxes and cans of green beans had faded in the sun. If there was any sun in this godforsaken town, Courtney thought. She pulled a cart from a cluster by the door. It rattled free, wobbling on one gimpy wheel.

The clerk, a scrawny woman poking out of a blue Thriftway smock, smiled. “Don’t bother, miss. They’re all a little broken.” The skin covering her skeletal arms was of the same ashen color as everyone else in town.

“Oh. Yeah, thanks.” Courtney leaned into the cart, forcing the wonky wheels into a straightish line. The store was small, four aisles of the basics with a tiny meat counter and four freezer cabinets. She filled the cart with only the basics, cereal, bread, some bologna. Hoping for fresh vegetables and fruit, she picked only a handful of bruised red delicious apples and a browning head of iceberg lettuce from the meager selection.

“Most folks just drive into Springdale,” the clerk said when Courtney began unloading her cart. “We sell a lot of milk, last minute stuff like that.” Even her eyes were grey. She started punching keys on the register, ringing up each item by hand.

Courtney tried to say something, but her words stuck in her throat. She wanted the food and she wanted out. She wanted out of the town, away from the permanent haze and the grizzled old men out front. She wanted to forget the town existed. Whatever Zach thought would happen, needed to happen, and soon.