Albia

 I walk through Albia, and at first, it seems asleep. The streets are brick-red, swept neat as a painter’s line. Magnolias perfume the air, sugar-sweet and sticky, like the town is trying too hard. The houses are pastel and perfect, white fences gleaming under the moon. But my eyes catch the small things: a curtain twitching too often, a shadow pressed against a wall that doesn’t belong to anyone, a slow shuffle behind closed doors.

From an alley behind the bakery, I hear it—soft thuds, metal striking flesh, muffled cries swallowed by the thick night. The fountain in the square runs clear, sweet, almost innocent. But if you look close, the water hides the stains of overworked labor—small hands moving crates too heavy for them, barrels scraping against the bricks.

The shopfronts promise lemon tarts, candles, repairs. But deliveries arrive not from cheerful vendors, but from pale men in grey uniforms. Packages full of unmarked tins, moved quickly, silently. Always watched.

Even the streets themselves seem to observe. Tiny holes drilled just so, in lampposts, walls, tree hollows. I feel their gaze, recording each footstep, whispering to someone I can’t see.

Inside the houses, families sit at dinner, polite, quiet. Children don’t speak unless spoken to. Eyes dart to windows. Hands twitch under the table. Parents smile, voices smooth as silk: “Be good. Obey. Remember your place.”

I can feel it—the hum beneath the streets, the deep, steady thrum. Not cheerful or warm, but a pulse of something alive, counting, moving, demanding. I sense it under my feet, in my bones, in my chest.

I see Jim Barber moving down the street. Hair perfect, teeth gleaming, that smile stretched too wide. But I know what waits behind City Hall doors. The friendly tone becomes a scalpel. Questions. Answers. Obedience. Those who resist vanish. No one remembers the people of Albia, only the idea ofAlbia: sweet and perfect.

I taste the sweetness in the air, thick as honey. And I know: if you linger, if you watch too closely, the town will notice. 

Albia has a way of removing discomfort; then applying it in extreme.