John went to the store to get milk, but the road was blocked. A bunch of equipment dismantled buildings on both sides of the street. John asked what was going on to a passerby, they said it was bad foundations.
Up a block, the road was also blocked, this time by an intense police presence. John tried to ask what was going on, but was told to stand back. Many helicopters flew overhead.
If he kept going north, he would have to cross the highway. Instead, he went south, backtracking by the construction site. But the next street didn’t cut through—a dead end. He’d forgotten about that. It wasn’t a road he travelled down. Next, after walking past a middle school, he finally found a street he could travel down. He passed by a condemned house, the windows and doors boarded up with plywood. Bottles, cans, fast food wrappers, and a menagerie of other trash all littered the sidewalk near the house. On the ground were two intact needles, and perhaps the remains of a third.
He turned down a cross street to cut back toward the general store. A bike marathon headed toward him, and he had to back up and let them all pass. As the group was clearing, one bike hit some of the trash from the condemned house and flipped over. The bike took half a dozen others with him. Shouts came out for an ambulance to be called. John got out his phone and dialed. He stood around and waited for the emergency crews to arrive. The bikers were a group all training together.
Eventually, the area was cleared up, care was given to the injured riders, and John headed toward the general store again. However, when he got there, it was closed. The store closed at noon on Sundays. So, he turned around, mapping in his head where the grocery store was from his current location. Many helicopters continued to fly overhead.