I met the old man for the first time in a lone shack on the edge of a forest. My father and I had to cross the creek that continued a mile into town. It was raining that night and I was cold, so he ended up carrying me to the other side, his hands under my arms. The earth on the bank of the river cradled our feet like a wet pillow. He gripped my small, clammy hand and pulled me from the cattails into the shadow of the shed.
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