"There is a rumor that a man on a secluded mountain is turning all his household items into a studio set up from the original Star Trek scenes. I was wondering if anyone here could tell me about that." I slapped my red travel bag that I use as a purse, down heavy on the counter. I caught a glimpse of my disheveled look in the mirror behind the cafe counter. My blues eyes were irritated from the dust storm I just drove through which felt like a roller-coaster ride uphill to reach the turn off road to this town. My GPS told me to take a right, then a left and several more after that and landed me smack-dab in Barley Town. However, there was no barley growing around these parts, just dust and out of business signs on old shops in a town that looked like it lost to the Wild West.
I fluffed my light brown recently over highlighted now more like blonde hair with roots as naturally brown as the ice tea that sat half drank on the counter where I chose to sit. My five foot eight inch lean frame felt like an accordion sitting in that car for way too long to find this place. I reached down behind me and picked a clot of dirt that decided to stick to my red four inch heels. My red professional dress was still wrinkle free, which was a miracle in itself. Some women just want to thank the person that invented the polyester spandex travel blend material that does not wrinkle. I personally could kiss their toes.