A lady in the crowd
The village of Calexico carries an evil curse. Our town has what any other border town would usually have. Down town stores sell their pirate products, and the largest traffic jam are passing bystanders scurrying from Mexicali to Calexico and visa versa.
Across town are socially divided neighborhoods. From apartments, who of imprecise people who fail to pay their rent, to inbetweeners or the middle class, then there's the stereotypic snobby Victoria's owned by lawyers, doctors, and drug traffickers.
Overall it's a small World, so microscopic that it's not on most maps.
The atmosphere is not clean nor suffocating from population, it's normal, and easy for most to settle. Where the majority of the younger generation claim to hate, yet nobody ever leaves.
Our town is forsaken with an incurable plague. All privacy and mistakes exposed to the unforgiving whispers of the village. No one knows the source of the whispers.
On a regular day you might've stumbled someone whose like a character from your favorite novel. The more shared conversations the more you feel an urge to know more. It's an obsession because a persons heart is a deep ocean of secrets.
So we latch onto the past and listen closely to the heartless whispers. Only to be misguided and flabbergasted by unreliable sources. Must we question someone's modesty?