The stately brown brick house squatted on top a small hill, sunburnt grass betraying its neglect. Two cars sat at the end of the gravel driveway.
“It’s a sign of the times,” the squat man in a checkered sport coat said through his open window. “Can’t even give them away.”
The lady nodded solemnly and leaned on her car, careful not to get dirt on her dress from where the tires had kicked it up.
“They used to build things here, you know. Real things. Steel. Cars. Kitchen appliances,” the man broke the silence. “But that was then. They closed the last big shop a few months ago. Said people weren’t buyin’ enough cars. More like they sold the factory to China to save a few bucks - if people weren’t buyin’ cars earlier, how’re they supposed to buy’em now? Now as they’ve got no jobs?”
The lady stayed silent, head turned toward the house.
“No jobs, no money. Everything’s for sale around here, but no one’s buyin’,” the man slapped his steering wheel. “How did it get to this?”
“Caveat Emptor,” the woman enunciated. “Buyer beware. They sold us the American Dream, but we didn’t read the terms and conditions.”