JERRY

Now watching him by that river years later, I see pieces of that boy again. The one who doesn’t quite know how to belong anywhere. He runs his hand slowly through his hair, muttering something under his breath, moving from one side of the river to another. Then, I know he’s falling into somewhere dark again.

I walk over to him with both hands in my pocket. As I move, the cool evening breeze moves through me, and I realize why he’s here.

“Hey, do you plan to talk to the fish today, ...