When you go walking in a small town after midnight, you hear things. The scuffling of the soles of your shoes on the chipped concrete. The warm breeze easing its way through the leaves on the trees. The lonesome hum of neon pulsing through the veins of the diner down the street.
And some nights when you’re walking, you can hear the voices of those who wandered this stretch of sidewalk years ago. Funny thing is, if you listen real close, most of them will tell you to just keep walking and never look back.
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