A.J. was already at the rock, looking out across the arroyo, when Adam came up the path, still stepping gingerly on his bandaged foot, making little use of the walking stick that dragged at his side.
“You’re back!” A.J. said. “How’s it going, Adam?”
Adam rolled his eyes and lowered himself to a sitting position a few feet from A.J.
“Where do I begin?” he groused, scuffing at the ground. He followed A.J.’s gaze and stared out across the arroyo. The late afternoon sun was painting the cliffs in amber and caramel hues; angular shadows stretched across the tables of rock as the sun slipped toward the horizon.
“Anything you want to talk about?” ...