Seldom Seen in August

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Sirens wailed three blocks away.

Garden railings and high wooden fences whipped past Wade as he ran, his feet pumping the earth hard enough to send bone-jarring jolts through his legs. Frantic, he cast desperate glances at the houses whose backyards let out on either side of him. Each one seemed to be a carbon copy of the other, their windows visible over the fences like the eyes of mischievous children. They all appeared new too, which made sense to Wade. After all, he’d lived in this city his whole life, knew its highways and byways as if the veins on the back of his hand were a topographical map, and couldn’t remember ever seeing a street called Seldom Seen Drive before. He figured it had materialized while he was in jail. Good thing he didn’t give a shit about preserving Harperville’s historical assets or he might have taken offense at the audacity of the city’s planners, because if memory served, an old cathedral had once occupied the space where now stood about sixty cookie cutter homes. Whoever had purchased the lot had apparently done so without fear of divine retribution, and though Wade appreciated that kind of balls-to-the-wall confidence, he had no time to ponder it.

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