Stories...I know so many. And they are all good. Gooooooooooood. Bite-your-teeth-in, juicy-good. Full of flavor. Proof that truth IS stranger than fiction, and a dang sight more amusing too. That's the most wonderful thing about living in a small town, you have easy access to the BEST tales. Everybody has a quirk, everybody has a story. Stories are so thick, it's a writer's paradise. I can't think of a person I know, that I couldn't tell you a hilarious story about. I love that. I love that, and I hate that, 'cause I won't. Won't tell you, I mean. That's the worst thing about living in a small town...it'll only take an hour before everybody's talking about it, things spread like wildfire if I say one word. And no matter how my fingers itch to write them down, to share these things with you, I wouldn't hurt my friend's or neighbor's feelings for the world. And maybe it's the reason why life in this precious place works...because there is a mutual trust not to exploit or betray each other, to band together, look out for one another, even the man with the porta-potty business next door. So, safe in my head, I think them all out, useless little stories and anecdotes that could make me a nice living somewhere else, but not here...here they'll just get me dirty looks at the post office. And here is where I want to be.
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