Robert's day started slowly, as do most of his days. He got up, had a small (for Robert, at least) breakfast, and was out the door. He wanted to get down to The Prado for the housing sales; and as such he hobbled his way over there. There was nothing much interesting to him; nothing really caught his eye, there were some people standing around talking real-estate, a few kids playing what looked to be some butchered form of the game of baseball, and one gentleman off to one side of the cul-de-sac. This particular gentleman didn't exactly appear to be a gentleman, but rather a guy. Robert just came into the habit of referring to all unknown men as gentlemen; it showed respect. This guy wore an old, dusty baseball cap that looked worn; which was the only real way to describe a baseball cap as well-used as that one. It provided a sense of friendliness and warmth that only comes from an ex-baseball player. One who spent his childhood, some of his teenage years, and a few of his older days in an old dusty baseball diamond that, to the untrained eye, looked like a field of weeds. Robert put on his friendly facade that allowed people to think of him as a friendly, warmhearted guy; the kind of guy who you meet once, exchange a few words with and then remember for the rest of your life, and said, "Hi there."

The man didn't reply; but Robert noticed the man standing by a stack of old baseball paraphernalia. Mostly, he noticed a picture of an old baseball player; one he remembered and was quite fond of, so he quickly offered a second attempt at an introduction: "Baseball stuff, huh?" being just as neighborly and friendly as he knew how.

"Yeah," the guy said, obviously taken aback by a stranger, "just some old baseball stuff."

"You know that guy?" Robert asked.

"No." the man responded in a tone Robert knew as an unfortunate truth.

"It's kind of a neat picture, huh? The kid looks like he's on top of the world."

"How do you think that feels?" the guy asked in a distant voice.

There was a long pause, as if the guy was remembering something, only broken when Robert asked bluntly, "Can I take it?"The ex-baseball player stared at him for a second, "The picture, I mean. I don't know if you want it..."

"Take it, by all means." he replied, obviously feeling somewhat forced as Robert picked the picture up off of the stack of old baseball equipment and memorabelia. "I'm Spencer, by the way."

"Robert Whittlesey." he said glancing over his shoulder, picture in hand, walking away from Spencer.