The Unbecoming of Thomas Callahan
The bay was flat and gray under a sky that could not decide whether to rain. Thomas Callahan stood knee-deep in the shallows with a bucket of mackerel, and the dolphins came to him the way supplicants approach a shrine. They had learned his gait. They knew the particular slap of his boots on the wet sand, the creak of the pier boards when he walked them at dawn. They knew him by the sound of...
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