Old man Matheson flicked his rod, letting the line out fast so the floater could land in the river’s current. That should get the hook and fly into the eddy far enough away that his daughter’s shouts wouldn’t disturb the fish.
Not that it mattered. Really, he should probably shout back to her, calling her to enjoy this glorious sunset. But sunsets were for quiet, and thinking of all the times you were too foolish to take them in, and quiet wasn’t her style.
It didn’t use to be his, either. Even now he was busy fishing, never quite able to achieve stillness. Still, the sun set. His daughter shouted. He flicked.
The Challenge: Write a story in 100 words or less
The Challenger (Hub): Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
The Photo Credit: Roger BultotBreadcrumbs: If you leave a link in my comments to the post where you rose to the challenge, then I will be sure to comment. If it’s hard to find you, I’ll assume you don’t want a visit
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