There were lives here once. If you listen, you can still hear the honkytonk with its out-of-tune F sharp. If you look, you may half-glimpse the flounced skirt of a bar girl.
A house, sure—a house can disappear. Fires catch easy, and carpenter ants will gnaw through a building in days. Even whole streets vanished in the war. But towns, towns shouldn’t just blink out.
I turn to Tommy. He’s long gone too, of course. “The main street were right here, weren’t it, mate?”
And he shakes his head and says, “Till the seam ran out.”