Inhumed
A suburb away on the main road, there use to be a cinema, not a thread-bear Deco girl down on her luck, a nasty brown 1970s cinema. A few doors down was a milk bar that use to eek out a living selling Fan Tales, jubes, fizzy drinks and the odd post movie banana milk shake and burger with fried onions and beetroot. The milk bar hadn't even been repainted since the 50s, it had a long counter down one side and across the back (no self service there), very high ceiling, black and white chess pattern lino floor, marble patterned laminex on evey surface. The cinema was knocked down years ago and replaced by a block of units.
Tonight I happened to walk along that strip of the main road, which I haven't done for many years. The milk bar is still open for business, after a fashion. The only light was a low watt aged yellow glow behind the rear counter, an old man was lurking in the gloom behind the counter near the door. From what I could see it didn't look like anything had been sold in years. It certainly wasn't inviting, anyone driving past wouldn't notice it let alone notice it was open. The milk bar had been inhumed by a layer of grime from the main road, sad and faded yet clinging to a pretense of life.
Tonight I happened to walk along that strip of the main road, which I haven't done for many years. The milk bar is still open for business, after a fashion. The only light was a low watt aged yellow glow behind the rear counter, an old man was lurking in the gloom behind the counter near the door. From what I could see it didn't look like anything had been sold in years. It certainly wasn't inviting, anyone driving past wouldn't notice it let alone notice it was open. The milk bar had been inhumed by a layer of grime from the main road, sad and faded yet clinging to a pretense of life.