Maize

Main Street Gas Station

Imogen was not going to take her chances with the intercontinental breakfast at the motel. She never bothered to look at their offering but imagined that might have been made up of twinkies, DIY pancakes and overdue yogurt. Her stay didn't need to hampered even more with an upset stomach. However, she wasn't going to work on an empty stomach either. Suiting up in some jeans and a red flannel shirt, she ventured out to the local gas station with her Elantra. She topped off the gas in her car, in case she needed to make her sudden getaway. It did take her a moment to notice that they might not take tap around here if the technology was as old as the average inhabitants here.

She pushed the door and entered into the store space, flashing a momentary smile at the clerk before she wandered into the aisles in search of some cereal and milk she could fill her mini fridge with. There was some dormant urge inside her that made her crave for Lucky Charms right about now...

The drive was long. The Buick's tank was as empty as a widow's heart. So was my stomach. After filling the car, I looked into filling myself. No liquor here, but coffee would do. Coffee and cigarettes, the less filtered the better, maybe a fritter. As I poured my cup, I gave a nod to the kid at the register and another to the looker walking the aisles. I guess I wasn't the only outsider.

Oatmeal, corn flakes, all bran, granola...the search wasn't very fruitful for Imogen. She was either in the wrong aisle or the town had some sort of ban on sugared cereal. She wouldn't be surprised, sugar would probably give the children some idea of rebellion or aspiring their sights to something greater than this small town. Was there an Amish community not too far away from here?

She gave a shake of her head and rose upright to see the other customer in the store. There was an elongated pause from her as another Lost was perhaps the last thing she expected from her. She was perhaps as much of an oddity as he was, her mask was thinly veiled over to hint that she should look like and what she did look like. That managed to coax a faint smirk from her and she spoke in the local lingo, or at least what she imagined it would be in her head. "Howdy, stranger. What brings you around these parts?"

She looked dangerous. What woman wasn't? But, there was more to it and I couldn't decide which side of her would be more deadly. Looking at the clerk stare at us made me think of how helpful a new friend could be, though.

"I'm lost." I shrugged. "Seemed like a good place to stop and take a break from travel."

"Lost?" Imogen tilted her head slightly at the statement as she dropped the fake local drawl, wondering if he was trying to be coy or being literal. "You have to go pretty far to get lost around here. Especially, when you're not from around here."

She gave a small shrug of her shoulders and glanced around, turning so that her back was to the clerk and being semi-secretive. "It does seem like a neat place, I guess. I haven't seen much outside from the four walls and ceiling of my room at the motel. I'm actually here for work," her tone was casual enough that she didn't mean any sort of special work relating to their kind.

"Imogen," she said as she placed her hand forward that almost seem to blink with an eye momentarily.

"Marlowe." I nodded. "All these backroads and farmlands. You never know where you might find yourself lost."

"I'm looking for work myself. It feels like I might find something here." I looked her over again, watching closely. "What do you do, Imogene."

Imogen frowned faintly and pulled her hand back, crossing her arms together. "That's for certain. I do intend to grab a guide or a map before I venture out of town. I'm a photographer and there's usually good scenery around rural parts. People fall in love with quaint and rustic scenery, so a few dozen pictures are bound to help me make rent this month at least." She snickered for a moment as she took a quick glance around the store to see if there was a map stand, now that she mentioned that she was thinking of going further out.

"How about you, Marlowe?"

"A shutterbug? I bet you see things most don't." The coffee was hot and strong. I wouldn't need a fritter. "I'm somewhat similar. I look for lost things. I'm a private eye."

She couldn't help but chuckle dryly at the statement, which wasn't too far from the truth. "I see some things but none of those things are exactly related to my profession exactly. I do some private detective work myself, more private than detective. Mostly, I get some request here and there. I only guess you do the real kind?"

Her chuckle earns a grin from me and an affirmative nod. "I look for what others ask for, whether they really want it or not. It was a family business."