Good Dirt

Henry

Henry

A part of Henry knows immediately. Even before he draws close enough to the riverbank to see Ebby properly. There is something about the way she inhabits the space around her that makes the hair on his forearms rise.

This is not happening, Henry thinks.

Ebby, of all people.

Here, of all places.

Well, dammit, he thinks as Ebby cries, “Oh!” and falls into the water.