Justin paid the clerk for the plastic cup of worms, then raised his eyebrow and grinned while he pocketed his change. The smelly bait in one hand, he wrapped my shoulder with the other one. “What exactly did you have in mind?” We’d left the house soon after I agreed to consider spending time with Uncle Bob. I had slapped a few sandwiches together, tossed a bag of potato chips along with a six pack of soft drinks into a picnic basket, then accompanied Justin outside to his car. As soon as he’d popped the lid on the trunk, I noticed the assortment of fishing poles and tackle. “For some reason, I pictured us snuggled together in some isolated corner of a movie theater, watching a romantic movie,” I answered. Of course, I was joking. I knew Justin well enough to realize he’d never sit through a romantic movie. He preferred action movies, which was rather ironic when I thought about it. I was the one with the gun, but yet, I’d rather sit and watch a love story. Justin started the engine and eased the car onto the highway.
