The streets were as alive as downtown Marysville ever got. Jonah watched them eat funnelcakes, scream on cheap rides, and play the carnival games. The annual Olive Loaf Festival had not changed a bit. He remembered trying to explain it to Mary before he came home.
“Small towns, they find something – anything – they can call their own. Some reason to feel special.”
Her raised eyebrow had spoken volumes of sarcasm.
Back there he had been a nobody. Now, the festival crowd laughed and swirled around him. Jonah held his picture of Mary and danced down the street with them, smiling.