Riverchild

by solaris2001

They sipped bourbon from dirty glasses and quit their arguments and watched the sunset over the wide, muddy river as the blues twanged and thumped over the water from the opposite shore, between the teeming, droning legions of mosquitoes that drew bass to the blackening surface. The boy learned to sleep through the noise. He roused the boy at dawn and took him fishing in the skiff, and she leered at him from the kitchen sink as he and the boy stepped through the broken screen door with a paper bag and no fish. The boy knew of their troubles.

Advertisements