Casting the First Stone

It all started at five forty on a warm Tuesday evening. Tony and I sat at a downtown restaurant called the Paramount café, sipping beers and watching the girls go by. It was early evening in Denver, the sun setting just behind the mountains of Colorado. It was the first time we’d been able to talk since he returned home from Pittsburg. We’d been best friends since he and I were back in grade school, and I had missed him for the three years he was in Pittsburg.