Joshua sits in the midnight blue Lexus across from the diner. He doesn’t know much about astronomy, but he notices the stars and planets beginning to sparkle and shine on the purple, black velvet of the darkening sky. They are varying pinpoints of stark white, bold and numerous, dominating the expanse until the dense clouds of an approaching snowstorm cover them over. He watches the door of the House of Jefferson, and Roger emerges with his jacket pulled close to block the Indiana winter. He shuffles down the sidewalk with the Bible under one arm, toward his fall-apart pickup truck.

Joshua sees his father pass in front of Jimmy’s Place with its fogged windows, chipped paint, and sputtering neon Stroh’s sign. Roger never hesitates, walking around patrons as they hustle into the bar. He pauses at Red Rose Liquors and talks to Kenny Hoffman, standing in front of the store with a brown bag under his arm. His father shivers, puffs out steam, and lights a cigarette. Hoffman is joined by other town drinkers; they all talk. His father tosses the cigarette in the snow and moves on to his truck.

 Joshua questions: Can he walk past the town watering hole, past the town liquor store, and past the town drunks? He has.

Will he buy the coat? Will I hear from him again? He can’t decide. Does he know I’m here? He doesn’t think so, but with people like this, you can never be sure of anything.