The Price Is the Price
Gravel lot. Friday morning in Torrington. The trailers are lined up in neat rows at the front, goosenecks and bumper-pulls together, dust still settling from the last one in. He pulls in at the end of the row and steps down from the cab. October cold. His breath hangs in the air and catches the low sun.He only comes on Fridays. The bakery is only open Thursday through Saturday, and there’s no sale at the market on Thursday or Saturday, so Friday it is. Sale at ten. Bakery by noon. Home by four.The brand inspector’s office is off to the left of the building. Proof of ownership for cattlemen…
The skinny
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