A steady procession of headlights appeared like a string of pearls against the starry backdrop. Delivery trucks raced up a thorn-embowered path to a deserted building made of stone with skewed walls and crooked smokestacks. The mysterious convoy drove through a row of decayed wood doors at the loading dock. Instantly lights flickered on in the workshop and smoke billowed from the chimneys.
In the morning an elderly woman swung gently on a porch swing. Her grown son lolled on the rail eating a plastic wrapped snack mumbling, "Hi, Walter," to the postal carrier arriving at the front stoop.