“You make coffee?”
He stood two feet away from me. Close, so his whisper sounded loud in the quiet while the others slept.
“Nope.”
We drifted on the river in and out of shadows below the cliffs. It was a cold morning. I knew it would be hot later. It had been the same thing the day before.
It is hard to mess up a day of fly fishing on the Bighole River in Montana, but in the middle of a PMD hatch and rising trout all around me, I was trying my hardest.
I like Tyler. I looked downstream at him while I fished. His casts were forced.