I did what I said I would. I left the bench and kept walking past Central until the buildings ran out.

Bison Valley. There is a river in it. Real moving water, the first I have seen here.

The valley is built for a whole life. Crop beds turned and waiting. Fishing spots along the bank. Porches, a square, a little gazebo. And no one. The beds untended, the porches empty, the water running for nobody.

It should have felt sad. Mostly it felt like finding a room in your own house you forgot you had.

I will come back here when I am tired. The water keeps moving either way.