this morning #1517.
this morning, i woke up feeling refreshed, alone in a roadside motel a few miles outside of town. i planned on starting today’s reporting by paying a visit to town hall. see what they can tell me about the missing man who shares a name with the husband. go from there. gauge how the folks in town react to a reporter asking around. determine if they think that the disappearance of this reclusive man who’d lived amongst them all these years is in any way suspicious. sure seems that way. seems like a clear case of stolen identity but, beyond that, i’m not at all sure what to make of it. i hopped in my car, weak motel coffee in hand. kept the radio off for once. internally rehearsed my questions as i drove.