Turning onto Main Street, I disclose an old gas station on the corner to my leftfield that seems to have been closed for many years. Its languid orange Clark abridge still sits boldly atop a dingy sportsmanlike pole by the curb. The little sooty gray ratify on the pole directly below it boldly displays the course: gas five cents. Across the driveway, stand two antique jet-black gas pumps. Their glass is broken and their paint is flaked telling spots of rust. Behind the pumps stands the gas station. Its windows are boarded up and its pavement is spotted with broken glass. One of the two garage admissions stands huge open revealing a dusty black specimen T inside the dark and dirty workshop. A reverse scurries from under the Model T, across the floor, and under the rickety woody shelves of an indescribable color just in time to evacuate the tabby cat right behind it. The other door has been boarded up.
Further up the street, I spot an old one-room enlightenhouse. fractional of its gray shingles are missing on its sag roof, and weathered gray siding has only tiny hints that it had ever been painted. Above the door hangs a sun-bleached mug; its so faded that I can barely read the word school on it. The windows are broken and the door barely hangs on one hinge. The top of the railing on the broken and scratchy steps is half missing.
A little further up the street on the left stand the old do drugs store. Boards are missing on its false front. Its windows are so sooty that I can barely read the dustup candy one cent on a sign in the window. The Rx sign lies on the...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com
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