Engine cut, kickstand down, she stretched off the motorcycle, removed her helmet and took in the silent, empty Main Street that made up the tired old town. Feeling eyes on her, she turned, and peering at her through the dust-speckled glass of a storefront real estate office was a woman who appeared agelessly ancient. She waved weakly, and after swigging her bottled water from her bag, she remounted and continued, eying her gauge, uneasy now at the dearth of traffic, questioning her choice of road less traveled.
Familiarity made her more confident when she rolled through the next afternoon, now backtracking to avoid road construction on the busier roads that she had finally come to, and she again pulled over in front of the real estate office to stretch and snack. As she tilted her head back to drink, she noticed what appeared to be foggy mist over the trees outside of town, though everywhere else appeared dry and clear, the sun high in the sky.
“Well, well, well, you’re back”, she heard, and, lowering her water bottle, she turned, taking a moment to discern that the middle-aged woman smiling knowingly at her from the doorway was in fact the same woman she had seen the day before.
Written for Six Sentence stories, cue word well.