Fiction | September 28, 2020
On the Western Bride
Bruce McKay
I’d been pinheading on a fishing boat called the Western Bride—scrubbing and prepping so I could fish for free—and that winter I’d made deckhand. This was when I was living in a cousin’s apartment on Adams in Huntington Beach, sleeping in the front room on the understanding that I went out and did my business and didn’t bother anybody with my problems.
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