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hs75150.jpgbuy prints of select halfsquatch photographs at etsy or dawanda. (prints of all photographs are available upon request) day 75

Bob approached the Lady Sasquatch slowly. Though she smiled, he didn’t want to startle her. He handed her his open beer. She took it and examined the shiny can. She shook it and foam splashed out the top.

“No,” Bob said. “Here.” He put his hand over hers and raised it to her mouth. She took a drink and promptly spit it out. Bob laughed. “I know. It’s an acquired taste.”

The Lady Sasquatch laughed. The sound was remarkably human. Then she said something he didn’t understand.

She walked into the river. She stood still for a minute, maybe five, Bob couldn’t be sure. Suddenly, there was a great ruckus. The Lady Sasquatch tossed this way and that. Bob walked to the edge of the river. The Lady Sasquatch turned around and held a three-pound grayling above her head in triumph.

“Where the hell’d you catch this sucker?” Tucky asked. When he returned to camp Bob gutted and cleaned the fish, then cooked it over the fire.

“Just down at the river.” Bob tried to sound casual, but his voice always came out high and squeaky when he lied.

Tucky was too drunk to notice.

For the next three evenings, Bob returned to the rock by the river where he’d found the Lady Sasquatch sitting, and for the next three evenings she was there. He’d steal away from Tucky telling him he was going for a walk or that he needed to clear his head, think about what he wanted to do once their trip was over. He’d take a fishing rod in case the Lady Sasquatch caught another grayling for him.

He brought her a bar of dark European chocolate. It was squishy from the heat and stuck to the tin foil wrapper, but the Lady Sasquatch ate it with pleasure. He brought her wildflowers he picked on his walk to their meeting place. When her presented her with the small bouquet, she ate that, too, but Bob could tell by the look on her face that it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the chocolate. When she ran her fingers over the watch Bob wore, he took it off and gave it to her. She fumbled with the clasp and he helped her. It was tight on her wrist and hairs pinched between the stretchy parts the separated the metal bits on the band. But she smiled and admired the watch, which stopped working shortly after he gave it to her, when she dove her hands into the river and caught him another fish as a token of her appreciation.

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                                                                                                                                                          ©2008 pamela klaffke