Every corner of this town is infested with memories of mom, or of some other traumatic event, or melencholic episode of my childood.Fadded by the sounds of the highway in the distance.

All the houses on this street look worn and old, or somehow abandoned but the lights are on.To the left, a tv echos the hockey game from one of the homes a block away. Oh ya the playoffs are tonight.My step-Father always watches the playoffs hopelessly waiting for the dy his team wins again.Beer in hand,several empties laying amongst toys drugs and an overfull ashtray begging to be cleaned out. just like the hockey team tht has not one since the 80s,that may never happen...(unless my siblings or I did it )