Rossner Junction
11:59 A.M.
The sky was an ultra-blue that I found attractive and longed to stare at for quite some time. There were no available minutes or seconds to ponder the sky though, since Toby was right on time. I watched him park his Tacoma and climb out of the metal beast. I then noticed his attire for some strange reason, which was a typical cowboy look for Stockton County: jeans, boots, and a cowboy hat. Neither of us tipped our hats or smiled. And neither of us was cordial enough to greet the other. Instead, we walked up to each other as if we were in a gunfight, stood about three feet apart, and studied each other from head to toe, ready for whatever could happen between two adult, angry men.
I was the first to speak, “Gray came to see me last night.”
“I know,” he said,
