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hs14150.jpgbuy prints of select* halfsquatch photographs at etsy or dawanda. (*prints of all photographs are available upon request) day 14

Bob couldn’t work, couldn’t concentrate on anything long enough to think straight. It was late June. Solstice had passed, but the sun stayed out well after midnight, and the madness of near-twenty-four hour light explained and excused, behaviour that at any other time of year would be cause for worry and concern.

He knew Rebecca’s sensitivities were at their peak – he’d seen her cry watching commercials for used car lots and knew that for years she’d avoided the library as to not pass by the bin of tattered, discarded books on sale for a quarter each. She stole a dead cat, he thought. That’s not so bad. We’re all kind of crazy right now. Everyone knows how this sun can mess with your head. He rehearsed in his mind what he was going to say. He could punish her – ground her, hold her hostage in the house, just to and from work and that’s it, missy.

She was off to her first year of art school in September, up in Dawson City. It gave Bob some comfort that she would still be close, at least not Outside, where people could be cruel and not understand a girl like Rebecca. I should talk to her, Bob thought. And for an instant he could see it – sitting her down, telling her everything, hoping that she wouldn’t hate him.

“They dropped the charges,” Rebecca said. Bob hadn’t heard her come in. Lisa and Julie were out. Bob sat in the living room smoking, using a saucer for an ashtray.

“I heard. They called while you were at work.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Bob looked at his daughter, her body sloped against the opposite wall. “It’s probably the light.”

“Probably.” Rebecca crossed the room and sunk into the corner of the couch facing her father.

“We’re all kind of crazy right now. Everyone knows how this sun can mess with your head.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

This was his moment. “And with the Sasquatch and all… Have you heard much about that?”

“That’s all I’ve heard about today,” Rebecca said. “And now Kelly wants me to stay late tomorrow so I can help him merchandise all the Sasquatch stuff he’s having shipped overnight.”

Bob stubbed out his cigarette. “And how do you feel about that?”

Rebecca looked at her father quizzically. “I don’t know. Okay, I guess – as long as he pays me overtime.”
The moment was gone.

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                                                                                                                                                          ©2008 pamela klaffke