“I was, what, ten or eleven?” Caleb said. “Old enough to remember but young enough to forget, if that makes sense.”

Tobe coughed. “Oh, I get it. You remember, but it’s more images and feelings. When you try to pin it down, it wriggles out of your grasp like a boned fish.”

“Somehow, I don’t think a boned fish is the only thing that wriggles out of your grasp,” said Celia at the campfire behind them.

Tobe waved her away. “It’s the worst thing, you know, knowing that things were once better and folks threw it away.”

“I just remember my mother taking us away from where we’d been living. There was shouting…men with guns…and fewer people as we went further and further away from the city.”

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