Michelle Hanley
Justin felt sweat begin to bead along his hairline the instant he stepped down from his truck. The early breeze had died off, leaving nothing but stagnant, muggy air behind. It was a good day to fish with his best friend, even if that best friend had spent the morning complaining about heat and humidity and the possibility of mosquitos.
“Come on, Tibs,” that friend groaned from the passenger seat. “I hate Cooper’s Bayou. There’s way better fishing ‘round here.”
Justin ignored Sammy, as he had for all of the grumbling. He patted his pocket to make sure his keys were safely tucked away, then reached back inside to grab his cap from the dashboard. “You coming or not?”
Sammy rolled his eyes and shoved himself out of his seat. It was amazing how such a small guy could make m
