Story by Bill Stauffer

It was before six in the morning. I was asleep in the room I shared with my brother.

“Your boat’s gone,” Dad said, getting his face right up into mine.

He shook my body under the thin cotton sheet. I propped my forearm over my eyes, crusty with sleep.

“Wake up! Your boat’s gone.” He searched my face for coherence. Only one day with the boat and it’s gone?

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