He brought his fishing gear to work with him and spent hours each evening standing hip deep in Ship Creek casting over and over. Early morning weekend...sex--a mainstay during the long, dark winters--was a thing of the past. Saturdays meant up before what passed for dawn in Alaska, and out the door for hour after hour of floating this creek or that river. Home late smelling of algae and sweat and, damn it, fish.When he was home, they were both either cleaning, curing, packing, and cooking, or. ” That soundedextremely lame.“I’m sorry, I was just trying to…” she mumbled. Iwondered what she was going to end the sentence with.Clean her clothes? Figure out her calculus homework.“It’s alright, I understand,” I repeated. The heavyatmosphere had lifted a bit, and it all seemed alittle silly. It made me feel better, which wasunfortunate, because I also felt more intrigued. Shecontinued to stand there.I moved toward her and took her by the. More

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