barbeque (4)

The air was thick with scent—meat, mesquite, and memory. He didn’t see anyone he recognized right away, but that was no surprise. Time had a way of smudging faces." Jacob Greene, is that you?" He turned.

Gloria Matthews stood near the folding tables, hands on hips. She looked older, sure, but exactly the same somehow. That same skeptical smile. That same voice sharp enough to slice through barbecue sauce.

“I’ll be damned,” she said, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “You show up now?” He didn’t answer. Just hugged her back and let the question hang between them like smoke.