I think I came here once before. There was two or maybe five of us following lipstick clues written on recipe cards. I’d found one duck taped to the bottom of the bench, the lipstick smeared and ripped off along with the tape.
We laughed, tossed it to the wind and went for shots of bourbon. Then again, I could have been alone. This time, there are no clues. Just me, driving north.
Looking for something I can’t remember.