And was it all a dream? The thin, black lettering was gone, the wall clean. There was no sign of a pressure washer or smell of fresh paint. I stopped and stared at the plain wall which had, a mere minute ago, urged me to smile. Tricked me, I should say. Successful, had it gone away? It was unusual, in my experience of things, for signs to disappear like that. I shook my head. Wrong wall. Must be. But as I cast my ever quickening glance around the parking lot, I could find no other candidate. I stood and shivered.
Smiled
Tale Told 