The old town died little-by-little after the factory closed. The folks with means moved away; those without saved, which took a little longer.
Daddy remained, keeping the market going for folks who couldn’t drive sixty miles to Walmart.
I was there when the fourth robbery occurred. Johnny-Lee, ski-mask pulled over his face, brandished a gun, tried to disguise his voice.
“If you gimme the money, I won’t hurt y’all.”
Johnny-Lee hit Daddy with the gun butt. Blood splattered.
My cheating boyfriend pointed the gun at me. “The money.” A horn honked then the canned peas hit his forehead.