The Watchman
Kansas. Summer, 1936. The bluffs above the Missouri.The river didn’t look dangerous. Wide and brown and slow. Trees leaning over the banks. A boy could stand on the bluff and think he understood what he was looking at.He was fourteen. Watching a man jump from the railroad bridge.Everyone did it. You climbed the trestle. Leapt. Hit the water. Swam to the bank. He’d done it himself, twice. The shock of cold. Hard swim to the shallows. You came up laughing.The undertow you couldn’t see. The surface looked the same everywhere. Brown and slow and safe.The man jumped. Hit the water clean. Came up…
The skinny
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