Winter is waiting for unsuspecting tourists. Apples are rotting at the foot of trees. The lawn is dormant. The neighbors talk but never listen. Dispatch is waiting for a call with directions to the site. Three drivers sit at the counter and sip coffee. Traffic slows to a crawl as it turns of the interstate.
Outside the window a woman is on the phone. She is smiling as she talks.
In front of me I have written three words on my napkin.
You.Will.Know.
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