I leaned against the brick building of Old Treasures, watching from under the awning’s cover as I played with my necklace charm. A light wind and the shade helped cool me from the East Tennessee heat. Activity on Copper Street had come to a halt. Men and women in blue uniforms secured the scene with their vehicles and orange cones. Drivers diverted on side streets to avoid the blockage while store employees and familiar shoppers dotted the sidewalk, staring in disbelief.
Sevier Oak was a simple town tucked in a valley of the Smoky Mountains and named after the heavily forested habitat. People often overlooked the small town due to its lack of attractions, and miniscule population. Neighboring towns often describe Sevier Oak as “the middle of nowhere.” Regardless of our size, it never stop
