SATUR DAY 02 Gone fishin’ ain’t for the faint of heart. Nor underwear either. “Hatcher, get your boney bones movin’. Ya’ breakfast is freezin’ over!” Ma’s voice vibrated against the I-can-hear-you-thin-walls of my room. “I’m up, ma!” Tick, tick, tick, tick. My head, meet pillow. Then blackness again. The door swung open: enter girl. Her …
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