I’m waist deep in lake water, casting for trout. The only sounds I hear are the occasional crow’s caw and the ‘zzzzz’ of my reel as the line plays out...
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The woman in the blue dress appears to move in slow motion, the crowd blurring around her. Her sensible but still flattering pumps, in a shade that precisely matches that of the dress, follow a straight path across the pavement.
Ten-year-old Maggie begins an August Monday at five a.m. She wakes with the sun and lies still for a minute, listening intently.