THEO
NINE YEARS AGO
Strawberry Springs Neighborhood Watch
Kerry Winsor:Welcome everyone to our FIRST community group! Ever since the library shit down, I know we’ve all been looking for a place to connect, so I made this! Feel free to post whatever you want in here!
Comments:
Marjorie Brown:The library did WHAT?
Tammy Jane:What a way to welcome everyone into the group. Glad I made an account to join!
Kerry Winsor:SHUT! I MEANT SHUT!!!
No one had heard of Strawberry Springs, Tennessee. Found down far too many aged and cracking highways, it was tucked away from any major cities. There wasn’t a single stoplight, and only one car lingered in a parking spot in the downtown square. Even the hub of the town was quiet, which meant it was the perfect place for me.
I imagined everyone who lived in Strawberry Springs had a reason to be here. Perhaps they were raised here, or their family was in the area. I had none of that. I was an outsider looking for a place to hide out.
It had everything that was on my list of towns to live in, making it my next stop. For the last few years, I’d bounced around from place to place, never staying long enough for anyone to get to know me. I would get a house, fix it up, and then sell it to whatever starry-eyed person thought small-town life was for them—if I were lucky.
Considering people never wanted to be in the places I lived, I only made enough money to survive.
But it was better than where I came from.
A sigh escaped me as I pulled into the place I would call home for a few months. The driveway had a pile of furniture left by the previous owner, and what I could park on was far more damaged than the old Strawberry Springs roads.
Most of the house was covered with some kind of ivy I’d have to tear down. What part of the siding was visible didn’t look great either. White paint was peeling off in various spots, exposing the wood underneath to the elements. Time had taken its toll on this place. Even the porch was half collapsed.
I’dsooverpaid. No wonder this house sat for way too long.
Oh well. There weren’t any refunds for bad decision-making. I had to see this through.
Grabbing my one bag, I headed for the door. I’d bought this place without seeing it in person, and I had no doubts the inside would be as bad as the outside. It would be a pain in the ass to fix it up, but I was no stranger to getting things done. At least these days, I worked formeand not someone else.
When I walked in, the space was jam-packed to the ceiling with old furniture and various trash. It was tempting to walk right back out and pretend I’d never bought this place. For a second, I only saw the mess I had to fix.
I wound up having to take a walk around the perimeter of the house to calm down, eyeing the exterior the best I could. As I did, I finally saw some good. There were no cracks in the outer walls and the foundation looked solid. At least I had that going for me.
The bones were good. I just needed to fix it up.
There was no time to waste. The second I arrived, the timer had started. I needed to get the work done and get out.
And even if I wanted to sleep, there was no room to.
I started in the living room, clearing out junk that wasn’t mine. Sweat pooled immediately, but I had no idea if the HVAC even worked, much less where the thermostat was. All I could do was continue.
Once I had a path through the living room, I headed toward the back of the house. There were three bedrooms attached to a decent-sized living space and kitchen. It was far too much for me, but maybe I’d sell it to a family and they’d make memories that I never would.
Exhaustion made my eyelids heavy sometime late into the evening. The kitchen wasn’t functional, so I had to go in search of food.
The only place I found was Center Point Diner. The outside of it had the same cracked, worn look that the rest of the town square did, and I expected the same dilapidated look on the inside.
Instead, I found brightly colored tiled walls and a clean interior. The only sign of its age was the style. I blinked as I walked in.
Clearly, whoever owned this place cared about it a lot.
A lone woman sat at the front, reading a book. She was older with frizzy bleach-blonde hair and a name tag that said “Maisie.”
