Grayridge, Maine — October 12th, 4:18 p.m. Grayridge had always looked like it belonged to someone else’s memory. The trees hung low over the narrow roads, their branches bending like old women hushing secrets. The houses—modest colonials and leaning farmhouses—sat with their backs to the wind, all white paint and weathered porches. Everything here looked preserved, as though the town had been laminated