Here in Boulder the ominously-named Crossroads Mall, a place where
one supposes that a modern-day Robert Johnson might well trade in his
soul for a new pair of Nikes, sits like a cancer mid-town. The mall
has hardly seen worse days, even as a cow pasture. There’s one store
remaining and the remainder is sits dark. Lately I’ve come to realize
that there aren’t simply economic reasons for this. No, the town’s
vampire community has long needed a place to rest during the day, and
they’ve outgrown their former accomodations on North Broadway. Plus,
the food is better downtown.
We can only hope that Boulder High is training our own Buffy to
save us. Else we are doomed.