Five thousand souls. A town built on tobaccy.

If I wanted to be unfair about a town, I'd start with this picture. But I don't want to be unfair.

But yet I am starting here.

Something always bereft about a closed fast-food restaurant. How can you fail selling french fries?

Because the locals haven't the scratch to buy them? Well, let's amble downtown, and see what we have.

I'm always curious about the buildings whose previous life and function isn't clear. What was that? A shop window? A garage door? I'll bet it used to be a grocery store, though. Can you tell why?

Old grocery stores had a door for going in and a door for going out.

A beautiful example of an original building - preserved, perhaps, because it had been covered up by modernization. Or just because it was left alone.

They were confident his name would always be relevant:

It has a Wikipedia entry:

It was built about 1914 for the Rasor and Clardy Company, and is a two-story, brick commercial building. The building features metalwork, stained glass and glass tile, mosaic tiles at the entranceways, wooden coffered ceilings in the display windows, and pressed metal interior cornices and ceilings. It is considered the most intact early-20th century commercial building remaining in Mullins.

As well it should be. That's probably the original door grate.

A small town 5 & 10 in its finest postwar incarnation:

Gone, but not gone.

Belk, Inc., a private department store company based in Charlotte, N.C., is the home of Modern. Southern. Style. with 293 Belk stores located in 16 Southern states and a growing digital presence.

Maybe 292 now?

The sign and the color diverts you from the curious matter of the upper floor. That type of window doesn't go with that type of brickwork.

Does the Google car always go through town on a Sunday morning?

Or is there just a scant chance of finding someone on the street?

And I hope it's not called H:

Astroturf.

They stopped the fight after the tenth round:

Note the poured-concrete / faux-brick sidewalk. Part of a renewal effort, I'm sure. Shop Historic Downtown!

Nice little brickwork, blinded windows, Buckaroo Revival awning . . . and a few little holes and metal poles to suggest perpendicular signage.

Wonder how often that trash can fills up.

Ah! Here's something official. Laws or money, it's one or the other.

Somehow Anderson Brothers Bank doesn't sound like an ordinary financial institution.

Okay, guess what it was:

I thought: could that small window be for the projectionist? That got me searching for its previous life as a theater, and sure enough: it was . . . THE ANDERSON.

There's that name again.

HEY NOW HOLD ON

Same place. Trick of the Google Street View camera; it's next door. The whole thing was the theater, I gather.

Taking applications for what? This guy looks like he's filled one out but can't find anyone to take it.

Turnkey property! Ready for business.

And finally . . .

If they wanted to trap and eat PC users, perhaps a trail of Doritos leading to the door would be less obvious.