My country side

Neville # 6

As we pulled into town, I couldn't help but stare out the window of Fiona's old, beat-up truck. Everything felt... smaller than I'd imagined. The town was basically one long street, with a handful of brick buildings, a general store, a diner, and what looked like the world's tiniest movie theater. There was no honking, no skyscrapers, no rush of people glued to their phones. It was eerily quiet compared to the constant noise of the city I was used to.

"So, this is it?" I asked, trying to sound casual, though I was pretty sure my expression gave me away. "This is the whole town?"

Fiona shot me a glance, smirking as she pulled into a parking space in front of the diner. "Pretty much. I mean, there's a couple of neighborhoods behind Main Street, but yeah, this is it."

I nodded slowly, taking it all in. I wasn't sure what I'd expected—maybe something more like a quaint village from a movie, or at least a coffee shop with decent espresso. But this? This was the definition of small-town life. It felt like everyone here probably knew each other by name.

Fiona hopped out of the truck, slamming the door behind her with a practiced ease. "Come on, city boy," she said, tossing me a grin. "You said you wanted to see how the other half lives."

I followed her lead, stepping out onto the cracked pavement. The air was different here—cleaner, quieter. There was no hum of traffic or the buzz of street vendors. Just the occasional bird chirping and the soft murmur of conversations drifting out from the diner.

As we started walking down the street, Fiona gave me the grand tour. "That's the diner," she said, pointing to a small, 1950s-style building with a neon sign that flickered "Dottie's Diner." "Best pie in town. Actually, probably the only pie in town."

"Good to know," I said, trying not to sound too skeptical. I wasn't much of a pie guy, but after this morning, anything would be better than mud.

"And there's the general store," she continued, gesturing to the next building. "You can get everything from groceries to tractor parts. Not exactly a Walmart, but it gets the job done."

I nodded again, feeling like I was on some kind of strange field trip. The only place that really caught my interest was the library. When Fiona pointed it out, it was hard to miss—it looked ancient, with big wooden doors and ivy crawling up the brick walls. The Wi-Fi beacon of this town.

"The library's over there," Fiona said, watching me with a knowing smile. "It's small, but they've got good internet. Probably the only place in town where you can get a decent connection."

"Now you're talking," I said, relieved that there was at least one slice of civilization here.

"Don't get too excited," she teased. "You'll still have to deal with people. The librarian, Mrs. Jenkins, loves to chat. Good luck getting away without her asking about your entire life story."

I chuckled despite myself. "I'll manage."

We kept walking, passing by a couple of small boutiques and an old movie theater that looked like it hadn't been updated since the 80s. A few people nodded at Fiona as we passed, offering friendly waves. She waved back, smiling easily. It struck me how comfortable she seemed here—like she belonged. I'd spent my whole life surrounded by more people than I could count, but even in a city full of millions, I'd never felt that sense of connection she seemed to have in a place this small.

"So, what's the verdict?" Fiona asked, turning to look at me as we stopped in front of the library. "Is it everything you dreamed it would be?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Dreamed? That's a bit of a stretch."

She laughed, shaking her head. "It's not for everyone, I know. But I bet you'll come around. Small towns have their charm, once you stop looking for the Starbucks."