Little Fish: Read the short story that inspired the movie
August, twenty-six months ago. This is my earliest memory. I was twenty-nine. The last waterslide park in northern California was closing at the end of the summer, and I felt I owed it to my childhood to take one last run. I shivered in the wind at the top of the snarl of the plastic slides, picking at my old, too-small bathing suit and clutching a limp inner tube in a line full of chattering schoolchildren. I saw him across the platform, another person too old to be there. He was handsome and he smiled at me and I thought our cheap nostalgia made us kindred spirits.
Source: ew.com