It was a perfect day for a funeral. The roiling clouds overhead were mottled and dark, like a fresh bruise—a sure sign that a storm was brewing. A few early raindrops splattered against the Tesla's windshield as it sped down the highway towards the storm and the town of Eden.

Lenore Watson shifted in the passenger seat, her newly bought dress tightening in on her in all the wrong ways. It had been the only decent black dress that she had been able to find on their way out of the city. It didn't fit very well at all, but it would have to do for an afternoon. Lenore was already looking forward to when it was all over, when she could rip off this stupid dress and make herself a promise.

I'll never come back here again.

Her father, Stanley, glanced over at her, giving her a brief, bracing smile before turning back to the road. Lenore pretended she didn't see it. Her gaze was focused out the window to the patchwork of farmer's fields that ran alongside the road. Eden had earned its name from the fertile soil that surrounded it, once renowned for being so rich and hearty that it had even survived the devastating droughts of the Dust Bowl. But its oh-so-special soil wasn't special enough to stave off progress, and it was only a matter of time before the city swallowed it up and turned it into yet another suburb. For some, that would be a true loss.

For Lenore, it would be karma. If she had her way, Eden would be wiped off the map entirely.

"We'll be there soon," her dad said as if he could feel the anxiety pouring off her. As he said it, they closed in on the town's welcome sign.

Welcome to EDEN: A Haven in the Dust!

Despite the cheery greeting, the sign looked as if it was on the verge of becoming dust itself. The painted scene of golden fields was flaking off of its warped face, adding a sinister edge to its welcoming message. At its foot, something fluttering in the wind caught Lenore's attention: a weather-beaten cross wreathed with faded fabric flowers.

She only got a glimpse before it all flew past, but it stirred something in Lenore's memory. She had done her best to block out everything she could about Eden, but coming back had already begun to weaken her defences, and things were starting to resurface. That cross had a story, a story she knew. She could remember when they had first put it in, back when the sign was freshly painted, back when she was just a child. It had been a monument to a tragedy—the first of many the town had seen. It was a memorial for a car crash that had happened on that very spot, taking the lives of several local teens. The town had mourned them heavily, but some dark part of Lenore thought they had been lucky.

Dying was one sure way to get out of Eden for good.

As they reached the streets of the town, Lenore kept her gaze out the window, watching as the town she had once called home went by. Eden had once been a pretty place, perfect and picturesque, exactly the image of the idyllic country town that someone who had never left the city would imagine. But in the few years they'd been gone, hard times had come to Eden. Many of the once familiar businesses had since closed down, and the windows of the charming brick buildings that lined the main street were dark and empty. Whatever had made Eden so special seemed to be gone.

Lenore sank deeper into her seat. She didn't want to risk being spotted by any passers-by. But as they drove deeper into two, she realized there weren't that many people out, and those that were didn't even glance at the strange passing car. The streets of the town were strangely quiet.

Her dad pulled off onto a side street and then over a small, quaint bridge that crossed the small creek that split the town in two. The new road led into the residential area, and as they entered, more memories came fast at Lenore. Though they had been gone for over five years, not much had changed. The same boring houses lined the streets, the same scraggly forest loomed behind, and the same rolling hills rose beyond. The only difference was that the streets and driveways and yards were all empty, almost like the houses had been abandoned like all the townspeople had been sucked up into some catastrophe and the wider world had yet to notice.

Where is everyone? Lenore wondered as she watched a low fog creep over yet another empty lawn.

Her dad didn't seem to notice anything strange. He drove past them all, focussed on their destination, which was only a little further now.

Finally, her dad turned off the winding streets and into a cul-de-sac. Its edge was lined with the biggest houses they'd seen so far, houses that would've been grand decades ago, built during Eden's last heyday, but now looked worn and dated. Her dad paid them little heed as he cut across the circle and headed for the narrow gravel lane that was tucked between two of the larger homes. Someone could have mistaken the lane for just an oversized alley if it weren't for the large iron gate at the end of it.

The gate's bars twisted together as they rose overhead, ending in intimidating spikes—a clear warning: keep out. Only, today, the gate wasn't keeping anyone out. It was open, pushed wide to welcome mourners.

And there seemed to be a lot of them. Lenore had discovered where the townspeople had gone. Beyond the gate, a long line of cars was parked on the edge of the lane.

"Wow, it looks like the whole damn town has come to pay their respects," Stanley muttered as he was forced to slow the Tesla even further to navigate the narrow lane, made narrower by the densely parked cars.

Lenore scowled at the empty cars as they passed. "They have some nerve showing up now."

"Yeah, well," Stanley said with a defeated sigh. "You know how small towns are."

Lenore gave a short, humourless laugh. She, unfortunately, knew exactly how small towns were.

As they drove on, Lenore kept her eye out for an empty spot. With how tightly the cars were parked, she figured that task was going to be easier said than done. Then she spotted one, just ahead. It'd be a tight squeeze, but they could just fit—

"There!" she cried, pressing her finger to the window to point it out to her dad.

But her dad passed right by it.

"What're you doing?" she asked, looking back. "You just missed a good spot!"

"Oh, don't worry about that," her dad said. "Your mom said she'd save a spot for us up there."

Mom. Lenore bristled, which made the itchy seams of her new dress scratch at her sides. "Oh, really?" she said, trying to sound detached, but her words came out sharper than she expected. "How nice of her."

Her dad didn't respond. He knew better than to defend Lenore's mother to her.

The Tesla hummed as it climbed the winding lane. Lenore tried to keep her eyes forward on the gravel that crunched under their tires, not wanting to see where the road led. But as they passed through another gate—this one simple, white, and wood—she couldn't stop herself. She raised her eyes, her gaze following the line of the drive until it reached the house at the very top.

The house was nothing like the oversized McMansions they had just left behind. This house was old and simple, its whitewashed siding standing bright against the dark sky and the darker forest behind it. It was large, too, but from a time when large was a necessity. Back when it had been built, homes had to be big enough to house the whole extended family as they worked together to maintain the land that surrounded it. That land, her family's land, had long been sold off, sliced up, and turned into the suburbs they had just left behind. Now the big white house that sat atop the hill stood out like a sore thumb, odd and out of place, no longer needed for a big family. Now the only person who lived in that big house was her mother.

As they drew closer, the house seemed to grow larger, looming over them. Soon it would be inescapable.

Lenore swallowed hard.

As they reached the edge of the property, her dad slowed the car to a near-crawl so he could scan the expansive yard for the spot they'd been promised. Dozens of people were milling around, though most of them clustered together on the large porch that hugged the lower half of the house, their black outfits stark against the white. There was a less-than-gentle wind in the air. Women were struggling to hold down their skirts while all the men had tucked their ties between buttons of their shirts to prevent getting slapped in the face.

"Aha!" Stanley cried. "There it is!"

A space had been left in the driveway in front of the detached garage—a prime spot—marked off with an orange pylon and a simple handwritten sign, which fluttered violently in the wind: RESERVED FOR FAMILY.

Her dad turned the car and stopped right in front of it. "Wait here," he ordered and hopped out. As he went to pick up the pylon and move it out of the way, the wind lashed at him. It threw back his thinning hair and plastered his tie to his neck.

"Excuse me!" came a shrill cry over the rushing wind.

Both Lenore and her dad turned to look towards the house.

A sharp-looking woman was sweeping across the yard towards them. The wind seemed to have no pull over her. Her perfectly styled hair seemed to be immune to its influence, and her tight black dress left it little to toss around. She had a glass of red wine in one hand and, despite the darkening weather, wore a pair of huge sunglasses that shielded half her face.

As she reached the edge of the driveway, she planted her feet—clad in teetering heels—and stuck out her hip. "That spot is reserved for family!" she snapped at Lenore's father.

Stanley turned to look at her straight on and frowned. "I'm pretty sure Amelia's daughter counts as family, Delilah."

The woman—Delilah—went stiff. She pulled off her oversized sunglasses and revealed her wide, heavily-made-up eyes. "Stanley? Is that really you?"

His frown deepened. "What, don't you recognize me? I don't think I've changed that much."

"No, but, well," the woman muttered, seemingly at a loss for words. "It's just, it's... I-It's been years! I hardly remember your face. You're looking, uh, well."

"You, too."

The two of them just stared at each other for a moment, like they were trying to figure out what to say or piece together what was left of their fragmented memories.

Eventually, Delilah blinked and tore herself away, turning her gaze to the Tesla. Inside, Lenore slid down in her seat even though she was pretty sure the woman couldn't see her through the tinted glass.

"A-And you said Lenore is here, too?"

"Of course she is," Stanley said. "Why wouldn't she be?"

Delilah continued to sputter. "Oh, you know... What with the... And everything... Well, anyway, I'm sure Amelia will be very happy to see her."

Delilah took another step closer to the car, stooped down, and cupped her hand to the glass to try and peer through the window. Lenore shrank back. No amount of tint could protect her now.

"Oh, hello dear!" Delilah called to her through the glass. "Look at how you've grown! How're you?"

"F-Fine," Lenore said. Delilah's prying gaze brought back all sorts of unwelcome memories. She remembered Delilah. She was a nosy friend of her mother, and Lenore had never liked her.

Delilah gave Lenore a smile that didn't quite reach her deeply-lined eyes. "I'm glad to hear it." Then she straightened up and turned back to Stanley. "W-Why don't I go ahead and give Amelia a heads up that you're here?"

"That sounds like a great idea," Stanley said, trying to smile, but it came out more like a grimace.

Delilah didn't notice or didn't care. She just gave him a nod and headed back towards the house. Once she was a few steps away, she gulped back her whole glass of wine.

Now without distraction, Stanley finished moving the pylon aside and climbed back into the car to put it in place. He let out a long breath before turning to Lenore. "Are you good?" he asked.

Lenore nodded.

"Do you still want to do this?" he asked as he moved the car into its spot and parked it.

After a pause, Lenore nodded again and unbuckled her seatbelt. "Yeah, I do."

As Lenore opened her door, the wind took its aim at her. It cut through her new dress and threw her long, dark hair into her face. She growled in frustration as she unwound hundreds of long black strands from her eyelashes. It may have been a while since this town had been her home, but she should've known better than to wear her hair down.

Her dad stifled a laugh, smiling in earnest for the first time today. "I see the wind has said its hellos. It seems to have missed you."

"Well, I didn't miss it," she said, still trying to fix the mess it had made.

"Careful, now. If it hears you talking like that," he said, ruffling her hair and undoing any progress she had made, "you'll never have nice hair again."

Lenore cracked a smile then, even if it only stayed on her face for half a second. She dug into the small bag on her shoulder for a hair tie and gathered all her tangled hair into a rough bun at the nape of her neck.

Once she was ready, she looked back at the house and let out a defeated sigh.

Her dad wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "It'll be over soon," he said, giving her a little shake. "Just a few hours and we can leave. Then it's back to the city and then , next week, our first visit San Fran." He swept his hand through the air like a spaceship, making a whooshing sound effect.

"I can't wait," she muttered. "Let's get this over with."

Is there somewhere you'd never want to go again?