fish house bash
UNCOMMON SENSE FROM THE SOUTH SHORE
if you kill one, fifty more come to his funeral
Six months after Derek’s mother passed away, we stood in the yard looking up at her house. The fog had come in fast and the smell of salt water was heavy on the air. Blackflies swarmed around my head, jamming themselves into every available opening — my ears, nose, and mouth, a few down my…
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