The next morning I awoke early and gathered up my fishing gear. I hadn’t slept much. I was imagining meeting Heather and wondering what to say to he.... Will she even remember me?When light started seeping through the cracks of the blinds, I decided to go wait on the pier instead of tossing and turning on the bed. As I walked there, I felt quite nervous. The chances of seeing her there were slim, but it wasn’t impossible. It had been a long time since last summer. Who knew what happened to her. She didn't take shit form anybody, when she was angry or just passionate about something, she let it be known. I loved when we had debate in English because when she was heated her accent was much thicker, her eyes flickered with a little extra orange, and I knew whoever had the balls to argue with her was coming back defeated and inevitably emasculated. Day and I had always had limited interaction; always a 'hello' in the hallway and the occasional hug before a long break, nothing major. I. More

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