He quickly tired of this kind of entertainment, having found true gold back home instead of this false pyrite on the road. He dropped a ten and was on his way. Maybe he should have gone back to the psychic on his lunch break but distractions called — Forman George called her the best dancer in town. The proportions were all wrong, though, movements: jerky and like she was a puppet on strings instead of a real person, um, avatar. No mine to find here.
“See you back at the salt mine George,” he said upon parting, leaving the old man with his trinkets and baubles, poor thing. Wife died about 5 years back. He’s managing the best he can, Eddie supposed.
Sunklands 