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Later, he's looking into the water while Mike hums a little tune to himself as he packs up his rods. There's a break in the clouds for a moment and the sun is a bright, shiny coin on the river bed. He remembers being little, and grandma giving him a shiny coin to throw in a fountain. Go on, make a wish, she'd said, it's lucky. He can't remember what he wished for or if it ever came true, but now he makes another wish, ardently, fervently. Let it all be like this, he whispers, please, please, let Mike stay.

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