Sometimes it's the small things The gray of dawn was still an hour away when he pulled onto the road headed out of town. A few days to fish lonely streams... His mind was mostly sorted by the end of the seven hour drive. Lunch was simple with coffee made over a small fire, just enough to boil a pot of water dipped from the stream, and then a few drops to settle the grounds. Within thirty minutes he had caught and released two small browns. Contentment doesn't come with requirements... The crispness of a fall evening in the mountains.…