At the edge of the lake, a man bends to dip his fingers in the water. He brings them to his mouth and sucks. The water is bitter and leaves a salty aftertaste. Nearby on the shore, a fish carcass rots; its tail frayed, skin withered and wet. Dead eyes stare up at the baking sun. The man spits, turns from the water and retreats to a bench. He used to sit here as a child, eating dry sandwiches and fishing the summers through. It’s been a while since he visited and he’s sure he remembers things differently.