The trees. The swamps. This is really special.”“I’ve stayed up here a week at a time, just fishing, exploring, taking pictures. Solitude.”“I...kind of wreck the solitude, huh?”“We’ve had that conversation. One night...”“Okay.” She swung the camera to capture a bittern wading near the base of a cypress in the shallows.“You like that thing,” I said.“It’s a nice camera. You forked over some bucks for this lens, though.”“It’s the right tool for the job,” I said. “It’s more than a hobby for me, you. Things had been going so well until now. He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair, absent-mindedly stopping when his fingertips found the smooth, puffed up skin of the scar on his scalp. He had decided a while back to think of the scar as a reminder that life could be unpredictable, but he didn’t often let himself remember the circumstances surrounding the old wound. It’s normal to question what you can’t remember, he thought. ‘Gray? Please talk to me.’ He dropped his hands. Out of. More

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