Cold autumn rain drummed on my sedan’s windshield as I turned the key.

I drove the two miles from the reserve depot to Main Street without switching on the radio.

At half past ten I pulled the sedan up to the yellow curb right in front of the county courthouse on Main Street.

Raindrops slid down the glass in thin beads.

A seventy-five-dollar parking ticket was tucked under the wiper of a delivery van nearby, but I left my car running with the hazard lights blinking.

I stepped out onto the wet asphalt, the thick rubber soles of my combat boots landing with a hard slap on the pavement.