Two men stood facing one another on an otherwise empty street. The angry sun above made the ragged dusty path beneath their boots glow a brilliant white.
“John, I honestly didn’t think you’d show.” The speaker, Aaron Winter, spit tobacco juice to his right, his hand casually resting on the pistol holstered on his left hip. “Well, more like I wished you just stayed the hell at home.”
John Hawkins, unarmed yet unearthly calm, laughed. “Oh hell Aaron,” he said, the playful smile on his lips fading fast. “You know me better than that. I always keep my promises.”