Not Much, a drabble

by Sally Mn

Not much of a place at all.

Not Much...

Grey dawn sky over dust-brown buildings, worn and stained with hard use.

A dirt street, a straggling line of stores, bath house, undertaker, hotels. Four saloons. Once-bright signs fading, peeling. Some hardy morning souls bustling around, a few night owls straggling home. A stray dog or two, horses tethered and still.

A small, bedraggled dustbowl of a town he should never have noticed, let lone lived in... let alone missed.

But there's six men waiting - three near the jail, one sitting on the hotel porch, two on the street, one on the mercantile roof. Waiting for him.

He's home.

-the end-