It was a dark and stormy night. Rain sluiced down 2nd Avenue North in heavy sheets, turning the streetlamps into blurry halos of pale gold. The sidewalks glistened, slick with runoff, and the gutters burbled with the filth of the city. Even the neon signs over the pool hall and the diner sputtered as if they might give out entirely.

Calvin sat hunched in the corner booth at the Greyhound café, nursing a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. His jacket was damp at the shoulders, his hair wet enough to drip onto the tiny Formica table. The waitress, Ruby, had stopped asking him if he wanted a refill. He’d been sitting there for an hour, staring at the clock and the door like a man waiting for his sentence.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. A boy like him, with his soft drawl and easy smile, belonged home on Highland Avenue, asleep before an early shift at the hospital. But tonight wasn’t about belonging. Tonight was about Jonah.

Jonah was late.

The bus from Montgomery should have come through by now. The rain had slowed traffic, Ruby had said. Calvin told himself that was all it was. But in Birmingham, 1956, two men meeting under cover of darkness was never just weather.

He thought about the last time they’d been together—two weeks ago in Jonah’s tiny apartment above the pharmacy, blinds drawn tight. Jonah had played Sam Cooke on the radio and laughed when Calvin tried to dance, pulling him close until there was no space between them. Calvin remembered the smell of Jonah’s soap, the warmth of his breath.

Now the rain hammered the roof, and the front door rattled when the wind caught it.

At last, it swung open. But it wasn’t Jonah.

A man in a damp trench coat stepped in, shook the water from his hat, and glanced around. He spotted Calvin, gave a faint nod, and walked over.

“You waiting for someone?” he asked, his voice low.

Calvin’s stomach sank. The man’s badge flashed just long enough to make the point.

“We had a call,” the man said. “About… two fellows keeping company when they shouldn’t.”

Calvin’s coffee tasted like rust when he swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, eyes on the table.

The man leaned in. “Don’t be here when I come back.”

The bell over the door jingled as he left, letting in a cold rush of night air.

Calvin waited another half hour, watching the rain blur the street outside. But Jonah never came.

When he finally stood to leave, the city felt heavier, the shadows thicker. Somewhere, down some wet street, Jonah was probably making the same choice Calvin was now—walking away, head down, heart pounding, not daring to look back.

They’d both keep their jobs. They’d keep their names out of the paper. But they’d never keep each other.

In Birmingham, in 1956, a dark and stormy night was just another way to say goodbye.

And, you just know I can’t neglect the obligatory shameless self-promotion. New Yesterdays is available through the following links: Books-A-Million, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon as well as your favorite bookshops. The Audiobook is available from Libro.fm, as well as Amazon.