Lake Lewisia #712

[scrubjayspeaks]

Dunking fries into a puddle of ketchup, he tried to ignore the nearly-silent buzz of vibration coming from his bag, slung onto the booth next to him. He had been driving all day, searching, chasing the blips of a reality anomaly, and now he just wanted to eat his meal in peace. Beyond the window of the roadside greasy spoon, a lonely highway called to him, and it called with the incessant voice of the little radar receiver in his bag that had picked up the signal of some strangeness down the road.

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LL#712