Border Towns

I was sent on a wild goose chase at 7:00 AM this morning.
Fifteen minutes from the Canadian border the client informs me that there was a missed communication and that I can just turn around and drive the hour back home.

Had I the forethought I would have brought my passport and had lunch in Montreal.

I can count the population from the road. Forgotten places. Collections of abandoned cars gather in the yard, a weary fence stumbles, a roof lists and buckles. I stop for a cup of coffee and conversation. No one seems interested in talking. I drive on.