(This is a work of fiction.)
An Introduction:
Where the last hint of urban sprawl ends, there is a strip mall. Our strip mall is in the in-between, not on a state or national border, but on the border where “civilization” ends, and then the roads offer rolling plains and mountainsides. We are on the border between urban and rural, where metropolitan life ends and wilderness welcomes you.
Our strip mall has a pizza place, a laundromat, an auto parts store, and a fast food franchise. The rest stop and gas station were at the previous exit.
We are that fast food franchise. Our name is Carley’s, short for Carley’s Coffee Company. There are thousands of Carley’s franchises across North America. And this is the story of our store.
Every regular at the drive thru is remembered by the staff. Every one holds value to the staff- similar to that of a kind neighbor. You have a comradery in those fleeting moments of transaction, but you never become too close.
You give me cash. I give you coffee. I give you banana bread protected by plastic wrap. I borrow your wheelbarrow. Isn’t that how it usually goes?
Someone might expect that when I see hundreds of faces every day, they become forgettable. The opposite is true. To their point, yes, it is difficult to remember faces on a practical level who I have never seen before. But when they stop there once a week, twice a week, or every once in awhile, they hold value to us.
To be continued…
The Review Aisle 