If you steel yourself and manage to overcome
the anxiety you will feel about sighting it, wave the truck down. The man who
drives it has dead eyes and will only accept money minted before 1980. The
truck’s menu will be illegible with age, but ask for a sour cherry popsicle.
The popsicle the man gives you will taste coppery and salty, but swallow every
last mouthful without complaining about the taste. The man will smile and ask
you if you want to ride along. Never accept his offer, no matter how tempted
you feel.
From that day forward, to your eyes the
night will seem as bright as the day, and people will glow with the warmth of
however many days of life remain for them. No one knows what happens if you
flag the man down again or accept his offer.
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