The Empty Mirror

I decided that if I had something to occupy my mind, I might feel better, so I walked down out of the hills, through the village to the boatyard. We had a little dock jutting fifty feet into the bay, the shop, and the yard where we worked on boats. Chain-link fence all around it. As I walked into the yard, Uncle Jack gave me a look. He was never mean to me, never shouted, even though I could be troublesome at times—cutting school, talking back. But I knew enough to watch out when he gave me that look.
“What?” I said.
“Where’ve you been, Nick?”
“Up in the hills. Up in the pines.”