PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays
The boy sat on a high stool, book laid out on the shop counter.
‘He’s not more than six years old.’ Ginny peered round a shelf of plastic wolves with nodding heads.
‘He can talk, can’t he?’ Carl nudged her with a packet of half-eaten Oreos, crumbs skittering over the cracked linoleum.
Ginny tried to sound casual. ‘Err. I heard there’re some caves nearby – somewhere on the mesa?’
The boy smiled. Everyone local knew the caves were as empty as Oreo man’s head. Still …
‘I can sell you a map for fifty dollars,’ he said.
After reading up on Tucumcari, I found a snippet of local history here that inspired this very tale …