The Fisherman

by John Langan

A bit of laughter can be the bridge that lets you cross out of a bad time, believe you me.

With each year that passed, I came to ask myself if Marie might not have gone out of this world so much as gone more deeply into it. From being wrapped up in earth, maybe she’d made her way out into it, into the soil, the water, until she was part of things. Maybe she’d found a way to lead me back to her.