Multigenerational
Eddie is adjusting to his own hat when he gets a hit. A bit of a tug and a moment of slack, and then the fish strikes again. In a matter of seconds the line is taut. Eddie allows a little more line to peel off. He doesn't pull too hard, or too fast—in fact, the fish quickly uses up the extra line he gives it, and it's all he can do to hold on to it. "Granddad, you'd better wake up."
There was no number on the next bus. Jack stepped back. He expected it to pass by, headed for the depot. But it stopped in front of him.
The doors wheezed open.
The sun shone in Jack's face. He couldn't see the driver.
"Hop on, son," a voice said.
"This is the wrong bus," Jack said. "I need the Number 26."
"This will do. Hop on, Jawbreaker."
Jawbreaker! Jack raced up the stairs. "Grandpa!"
