he couldnt really remember the last words she had said to him, was it: what are you looking for? or: what are you fishing for? late that night he drifted on his boat in the middle of Cripple Knee Lake and tried to remember. the catfish were strange that night. driven to thier own submergeded lunacy and unfathomonable wierdness by the high pale full moon, he could see the mud they stirred rising from the bottom of the lake, heard them thrashing in the shallow reeds outside his lantern light. twice they had bumped his taunt line, buzzing it like a low base string. "was it fishing?" he asked himself 3 different times that night. was it? 3 times the cattfished buzzed his line. he heard a bullfrog croak in the distance, then a coyote yip somewhere on the bank. in that kind of heat and stillness he knew something was coming, maybe something from the bottom of the lake. maybe an awnser to his question. he turned the lantern down low and waited.Birth sign: Taurus
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