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Things weren't morose

Things weren’t morose for long. We walked back to where we’d parked the car and found a Greek place with gyros.

“For old times’ sake,” Derek said, and winked.

The sun was getting low in the sky when we climbed back in the car and headed south for San Diego.

We got into the city limits just as the sun was setting. The sky was on fire with gorgeous oranges and reds, and I snuggled next to Derek as he drove along the freeway.

Somehow we missed our exit. We had to stop for directions (at my insistence – like most men, Derek couldn’t admit when he was lost, and did NOT want to ask anybody else), but we finally figured out how to get to San Diego University.

After the truck stop clerk drew us a map, Derek got a mischievous look on his face. First he bought a San Diego Padres ballcap, two red bandanas, and a flannel shirt. Then he motioned me over to a payphone and dumped in a whole bunch of quarters.

I could hear Ryan answer on the other end. “Damn it, Derek, where the hell are you?! The op
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