The 7-pounder
April, years ago. Fog sat in the stump field so thick Ellis idled by the color of the water, not by the trees. He pitched a black-and-blue jig to a knee he could barely see and let it sit.
The thump was not polite. Seven pounds, two ounces, on the kitchen scale that has weighed more shiners than people. He held the fish up, looked at it, and put it back. The jig is still in a coffee can under the counter.
That's the whole story. He tells it shorter if the ramp is busy. You can see the kind of bass that lives in that water on the photo wall — Lena's fish, another morning, same stumps.