Fishing. Tales.

I think I have it right this time. 99 words. But one needs to mentally transpose the image onto a slightly different backdrop.

April 26 Flash Fiction Challenge

We stood there together on the edge of the world. Before our eyes the waves announced their arrival from beyond the horizon with suicidal assaults on the rock ledge below and created a salty curtain of mist that you could taste.

“This looks like the place,” he had said, laying down the rods. He imagined that I had been lured there with tales of wild fish and of tortured line and of aching arms. But I was there just for this moment. To be with him.

We stood side by side and my head reached almost to his shoulders.

8 thoughts on “Fishing. Tales.

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