There used to be a corner shop at the intersection of Magden Lane and Pioneer’s Way. They had candies and root beer floats and the latest magazines that were all the craze at the time. It was a small thing, with each of its varying products almost always constantly touching and its smally, shabby interior full of kids at all times, but it was familiar.

They used to serve the floats outside of a little service window on the side that had a total of three sticky benches, the burned sugar decorating the workers’ aprons to a similar streaky pattern. Little dandelions poked their nervous heads out of the cracked pavement surrounding the corner shop and and they waved at the sky.

Before, there used to be a little dip in front of the service window where kids and adults alike would swivel on their heel to go one direction or the next. The actual street corner was worn and scuffed and graffitied to resemble abstract art. It seemed like everyone was always there.

But now everything was brand new. Now the street curb was rounded and smooth and there wasn’t a crack to be seen. The pavement level and clean of marks.

The service window was boarded up and and smoothed over so there was only a blank wall and even that was protected by a chain-link fence. No barbed wires though, just a 6-foot fence to keep this building that extended the entirety of the block from escaping.

Now the street corner barely saw any traffic save for the occasional patient running from the facility or an unlucky patron lost on the wrong side of town.

Now the color of the sidewalk matched the sky and the uniform of the new workers.

There wasn’t a lot of laughter going around. Or talking. It was quiet, where there was once music. It was cold, where it was once thrumming with life. It was empty, save for the buildings clawing towards the sky.