We arrived in the town, everything—even us—obscured by and emerging from fog we’d traveled in since mid-day, all the way through Oregon, across massive bridges over the Columbia hanging in foggy night. The town still had no sidewalks. Hard to tell. Midnight, a guy in a yellow plastic hard hat and orange reflective vest stood in the trench, looking down at another guy working. Backhoes at either end of the trench. I was following directions, left by Safeway, straight a couple miles through the dark, down the road to another turn off, another road. Houses dark through the trees, some limned by exterior lights, garages, driveways, obscurities of much vaster night. At least one house through large picture window flashes neon red green colors of giant flat screen TV. Then the dark trees. Nobody knows me here.

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