So yesterday I was walking back from the grocery store and had just crossed the railroad tracks when the driver of a big truck that was parked on the side of the road leaned over and caught my attention.
"Excuse me, where is the factory?"
I turned back in the direction I had just come from. Looming above us, not 500 yards away from the railroad tracks, was a facility containing no less than one dozen silos and at least three ten-story buildings surrounded by nothing but fields and the dinky grocery store across the street. Blazoned across the top of the closest building in letters five feet high was [Factory] of [Our Town].
"Um... it's right there."
"Oh, is that it?"
"... Yes."
I mean honestly. But still, that was the second time since we've moved here that I've been asked for directions, so that's alright.
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