Northern Pike

The only people we know are those we're forced to share some intimacy with: a front yard with Dennis the bus driver; a half-fenced backyard with the young family in the split-level; the gravel alley, which we pull through to get to our garage, with Keith and Marilyn, the retired couple with the fishing boat, and with Lynn, who used to work down at the Winnebago plant and who sits on his back steps in the afternoons and pets our cat when she comes over to visit. The cold weather was finally giving way and he was always out in his garage tinkering with his truck or fletching arrows, and too often Lucinda would be over there, meowing and rubbing up against his legs, jumping up onto his workbench. In the paper, the CEO says the bright side is they're still in business, that after the slump their market share is sure to increase because in the last few months so many other recreational vehicle manufacturers have gone bankrupt. [...]he said, a bit embarrassed at his lecture, "I just like being out there."