She looks so peaceful when I come down to the dock, I can’t help but get a flash back to the last time we were really close, when we actually talked and spent time together — right before high school.
Sam says, “Holy crap, is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” I say. “I guess she was really tired, maybe hasn’t slept for a while.”
Kate says, “What the hell is she sleeping in?”
Sam says, “Isn’t this set-up great? I’m test rigging for a trip next week. It’s going to save us two days of paddling if we start with a tail wind, which there always is on this la—”
“Okay, I don’t care about your fucking hippy-trip-innovations when you could just as easily bring a trawling motor.”
“So why do you think she’s here?” Sam asks me.