Patrick and I stand on the bank of the canal.
“Keep an eye out for ‘gators,” I say.
He believes me that an aligator might climb right out of the canal.
But…
who knows what lurks under its smelly, dark surface?
Gators?
Vampires?
Bodies?
This is not New Orleans.
This is Chalmette.
But, still, I am a little bit afraid.
