Joseph steps into the rain while the car door slams behind him. He took the 4hr. trip upstate to a little place called Utica. The bar lights pierce his vision as he walks through the front door. He was here to meet an old friend. His eyes began to ponder the room looking for his friend. Sitting in the corner with a drink in his hand, the person came into focus. He was shaking. The look of fear ran through his eyes. I pulled up a chair un-invited.

His face as white as the bars walls dropped, and he began to stutter "hello." His hand reached across the table, and you could see the sweat pouring from the top of his head. His grin was locked down into a smirk while his hand was still across the table, and was placed in front of me.

I looked down and slapped his hand away.

He knew what I was here for. He knew he "fucked up." He knew that things weren't the same like they were before. He dropped my name while the detective asked him the question, "who supplies you," and he cracked. He knew that he was going for a nice long ride to meet his maker....