I was just finishing a cigarette when Jason finally showed up. I dropped the butt into a rusted old Folgers can beside me and leaned on the porch railing to watch as he parked beside us, killing the engine on his rumbling F150. Late afternoon sun twinkled off of his dirty, cracked windshield so that I couldn’t get a good look at him yet; just a vague, hulking shape behind the wheel. He got out of the truck and turned to f...