Stanley Sporkville was a man who lived on the edge of town. His real was Grant Stanley. When he was a teenager he made a scale model of our town with sporks. He made it on his family's front lawn. When his dad got back from the war, he was mad about those sporks. So he set them on fire. My own dad tells me he can still smell the burning plastic when we take the road by Stanley's old place. They call them olfactory memories, I think. Stanley Sporkville killed himself last year. He took pills. His family's house has been vacant for years and the grass is long. Driving by, I imagine where on the lawn he built the scale model and what it might have looked like. I can't remember. Our town is small but I have a hard time visualizing it all at once.