August before sophomore year of high school, I went to Keiran’s house to catch up after our summer fishing in different parts of Alaska. Keiran had returned from Bristol Bay, in southwest Alaska, which had a shorter salmon season than southeast, because mostly just sockeye salmon ran out there. He’d been back a couple days, but he still seemed a little gone. “I slept 14 hours straight when I got off the plane,” he said.
His mom was nearby and said, “Sounds like you slept a lot on the boat, too.”
Keiran shook his head and said, “Well, you know, sometimes we have to take turns sleeping so we can fish as much as possible.”
“Uh-huh. Sure,” said his mom, smiling.
Keiran rolled his eyes and shook his head more and said, “Ok, bye mom.”
“Bye. Have fun,” she said as we walked outside and got on our bikes.
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