by T. Leland W.

He would never face her when he spoke. Leaning back and forth, he tried to look relaxed and intent on seeing the golden eagle that lives atop Ridgewood Dam. "I've seen it two times," she said, and this made him bite his lip and pull back on the railing of the observation deck. An eagle seemed far-fetched to him, mythical, like seeing a griffin or a flying pig. He leaned forward and pushed his nose into the huge pane of glass. "If I I see it," he said, "I'll shoot it for you."


T. Leland W. is bioless.