A warm evening wind rustled the tall grasses of the empty lots in the city. The streets on the East Side were as quiet as the country, crickets chirping to herald the dark. The crumbling sidewalks were absorbed into the scrubby weeds long ago as had any foundation and driveway remnants. Only one in twenty houses still stood for blocks in any direction. The city had become the country by neglect.
A few homesteaders had been able to take advantage of the urban blight. Initially mocked by friends and family, they now owned huge swaths of land and often very nice houses. Once such homesteader had a quirky, rather than "green", streak, and bought up three separate houses, two next door and one on the street behind, as well as acres of empty lots.
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