There were ten cars now. Eli stood frozen at the edge of his field. He didn’t even sip his coffee. His shoulders were rigid, jaw clenched. A part of him wanted to run up to each driver and demand answers, but what good would it do?
Still, he had to try something. He crossed the road to SilverMart, the morning sun already heating the pavement. Inside, it was a swirl of noise and confusion—blaring announcements, squeaking carts, and a child wailing in aisle four. He waited at the front counter until someone directed him to the store manager.