“Killaine went up to the security guard and flashed her IPS, Inc., badge, the one that identified her as Karen Reynolds. The guard checked her name against those on a list and let her through. Stepping past the gate, she turned to the guard and said, “What’s a ‘feed camp’?” “The tent where food is served to the public.” “Thank you.” The midway was a street from the dreamland of any child, paved with wood shavings and sawdust that clung to the bottoms of shoes, the slightly musty scent mixing wit...h that of fresh popcorn and cotton candy. As she walked along the midway, Killaine noticed all of the booths and the neon lights decorating them. She wondered what this place would be like at night, once darkness fell and the neon came on and the music was loud and the Ferris wheel was going and the lights on the merry-go-round were blinking as the animals danced around and around, up and down . . . . . . she was so busy imagining what it would be like here at night that she almost missed him.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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