SHARKS' TEETH Langston Carter The day we found the sharks' teeth was foggy and cool. Moisture hung in the air so thick you could almost see it sparkling in the dim sunlight. There where it seemed there was more water in the air than in the bay. We had beached the boat and stepped out on the recently cleared spit of land. There over an under layer of dried black mud. It looked like a recently frosted chocolate cake, though the frosting was spread a bit than for my taste the ground experience that it was full of fiddler crab holes, and would be underwater at the first super-high tide. Mysteriously, to us anyway, someone wanted to be We often came to these spots to look for artifacts. Our beach, our summer home, had been a fishing camp for as long as anyone living could remember The coming down to the edge of the sea, lining up to fill their wagon beds with salted fish to take back home. Old decaying cabins stined the beach an century, decorated their weathered walls. Their broken faces spun stories in our minds. The fishermen who, tanned and wrinkled from sun and all the cheers from the waiting crowds. The bounty of the sea lightened everyone's hearts, and the smell of roasting fish filled the damp a women and the splashed in the shallow edges of the bay. It was a scene we had acted out as youngsters, building an imaginary bridge to a life we would never fully What is one way the narrator connects the present moment to the past? (5 points) By describing imagined scenes By describing the land as if it were food By including details about the environment By recounting his youth