I remember him and his . . .

I remember him and his would be skipping rock colliding with my neck. The lake was a sheet of ice: that much force wasn't necessary. I wasn't standing in front of him, really even vaguely near him, but my relative distance didn't matter. My brother couldn't hit the topside of a lake. My neck, the whole four by four inches of it, was obviously the easier mark. I smarted as I stomped to the car in utter disbelief. Not really possible.