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killed.
     
    Where the hell are all of these negative thoughts coming from?
     
    It was a good question. Sure, some people had bad days where they just didn’t feel up to par, but this was ridiculous. And I could blame it on Amber Dawson all I wanted, but this was coming from somewhere else…somewhere deeper.
     
    I felt like screaming. I felt like crying. And I had no idea why.
     
    In the end, though, I did neither. Instead, I was distracted by the sight of the baby blue float plane that was docked between Tanner’s Fresh Fish and the fishing pier. A small banner hung from the nose-mounted propeller that read FOR SALE. SEE MEL FOR DETAILS.
     
    Mel, I knew, was Mel Tanner, the proprietor of Tanner’s Fresh Fish. I’d seen him taking off in this plane just off of the coast, the little blue plane taking him to one of his preferred fishing spots a few miles away from Sitka. Mel was getting up there in age and I wondered if he was eyeing retirement. I knew he loved his airplane and couldn’t imagine him without it.
     
    Still, something in the back of my head clicked. For the longest time, I had dreamed of offering guided tours of off-the-map locations for hikers and outdoor enthusiasts. It could be done with a boat, sure; but so much of the Alaskan wilderness could really only be reached by flying over acres upon acres of uninhabited land—something a boat could never accomplish.
     
    Before I knew it, I took a detour and heading into Tanner’s Fresh Fish. I figured there was certainly no harm in asking about it. If nothing else, I at least wanted to know why Mel was selling it.
     
    I walked into the shop, surprised as always to find that despite his impressive inventory, the store didn’t smell too strongly of fish. Mel Tanner was sitting behind the counter, watching a news program. Like The Pine Way, his store was void of business around the lunch hour. When he saw me come in he smiled and muted the TV.
     
    “ How’s it going today, Mac?” Mel was pushing sixty and when he smiled, he actually looked older than his age. Rumor had it that he was sick with something, but his family wasn’t yet going public with what he was sick with, exactly.  My guess was cancer.
     
    “ Pretty good. How about yourself?”
     
    “ I had a good morning of fishing, so I can’t complain.  What can I do for you?”
     
    “ Uh, well, I actually came in because of the banner I saw on the plane. I really can’t believe you’re selling it.”
     
    Mel shrugged but the expression on his face indicated that it was a sore subject. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be and if I’m being honest, I’m starting to get antsy whenever I go up. I think it’s just old age. Besides…there are plenty of fine fishing holes around here.”
     
    I nodded, but I couldn’t help wondering if Mrs. Tanner had something to do with the decision. I again wondered what Mel might possibly be sick with—that was, if the Sitka grapevine was to be believed.
     
    Not sure how to start the negotiation process, I decided on the best small-town tactic I could think of: getting right to the point.
     
    “ How much are you looking to get for it?”
     
    Mel eyed me curiously and gave me a bright smile. “I didn’t know you were interested in flying. Do you have a pilot’s license?”
     
    “ No, but owning a plane would be just the right motivation.”
     
    He chuckled lightly.  “ I suppose it would.”
     
    I absently toyed with the business cards sitting on the counter.  “ It’s something I’ve been considering for a while,” I said, “but I’ve never had the opportunity. I’d like to offer brief little expeditions to some of the less-traveled hiking and camping routes.”
     
    “Hmph.  That's a pretty good idea.  Would fit quite well with your current offerings ,” Mel said with an enthusiastic smile. He thought for a moment and then looked out of the window behind his store where the little airplane floated. “I’m asking