Chapter 11: The Smooth River Stone

James had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the entire evening, his calloused fingers absently turning a smooth gray-blue river stone over and over within his palm- one of the very same stones they had collected together down by the creek a decade ago, carried faithfully through middle school locker combinations and backpack pockets like a treasured talisman of their shared history. He stared intently down at the weathered surface, tracing the natural water-worn grooves with his thumb while the engine of the truck ticked softly as it cooled down in the dark.