Lucas

The wind blew a serious chill off the lake, rippling its surface with furrowed waves. I stared out over the water, the whiskey I’d drunk eating a hole in my stomach.

That’s what I get for not eating first and putting down some kind of a base. I’m turning into Chase.

I bent over and picked up a flat stone from the multitude jumbled onto the lake shore. My fingers closed over the cold, smooth flatness of a chunk of rock. I straightened up and drew ...