In a dark corner of the diner was a man in dark clothes and combat boots.

At the counter was Dave. Dave didn’t pay attention to the man in the corner. He paid attention to the huge slab of sweet potato pie in front of him. Fork in hand, he scooped up a big bite of pie and shoveled it in. Way he reckoned, sweet potato pie was just about the best thing on God’s green earth.

He took a big gulp of coffee and looked at the TV.

“Hey, sweetheart, could’ja turn it up?”

It was that lawyer dude. Krunker, Cruller, something like that. Dave hadn’t heard much about the trial, but some numbnuts had dropped the ball, and the fellow was getting out. No skin offa Dave’s nose, that’s for sure.

There was a sound of a fist hitting wood and the man in the corner was up and running out the door. Dave watched him jump into a big Chevy Silverado and peel out of the lot. There was a man, Dave thought, who ought to settle down with some sweet potato pie and relax. Do him some good.

Young folks were always in such a hurry.