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… It had been more than three years since Eddie had a drink, and it had gotten so from time to time, a day would pass without him even thinking about it. But lately, it was back to one day at a time when he drove past the bar on the way home from the docks, holding tight to the steering wheel to keep it from turning on its own.

 

The catch was down again: some said overfishing, some said rising temperatures, the oil spill, ground fish predators. Some even blamed the West Nile spray-trucks, which especially now, of course, he wouldn’t comment on. He supposed it didn’t really matter why it was happening. It wasn’t like he and the handful of guys still trying to make a living fishing full-time out of Newell could do anything about water temperatures.

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