My slouchy bag dragged in the water as I bent over to pick up debris left over from fixing a summer camp dock. I looked up and that’s when we met. Things were messy, then they were easier, and now I only receive his drunken Facebook messages. He always made fun of that bag. He still makes fun of that bag.
Postscript: I don’t want to keep in touch with him. But on occasion I find myself thinking about him and wondering if I should give him a call.