Seven P.M.
I didn’t want to cook. Nor did I want to drive into town for fast food or a sit-down meal at Gregor’s Seafood and Steak Place. Honestly, I simply needed a different kind of meal: a whiskey, maybe two, and a tidbit more details of the lumberjack’s history and why he considered himself a loner and broken man.
I didn’t call Jack to invite myself over to his A-frame. Why bother when he lived next door? Instead, I dressed in a pair of boots, a ball cap, and a heavy coat that could battle the high winds and fresh falling snow outside.
I admitted to myself while trekking through the woods between our two properties that even I could be considered unabashedly rude. Whatever. Truth said, I wasn’t above arriving at Jack’s abode some six minutes later, knocking on his front door, and…no
