i’m always revising what i write. and with my story “every cast the opportunity for perfection,” i’ve been meticulously going over it for about the twentieth time. there’s many reasons, some which i’ll keep to myself, but mostly it’s because i can’t wait until next season when i intend to keep a detailed fishing journal.
The surface of the water is glassy and blue-gray. A thin black layer of silt covers the gravel on the bottom. Where the bottom slopes from the shallows on my side to the deep darkness on the other side, the bottom is clean and sandy.
When I peek over the grass at the edge of the water I see a long shadow two inches under the surface, the body powerfully and slowly holding position against the current. I suck in my breath. I drop to my knees. I watch for a moment and then the fish rises. It barely touches the surface and faint rings spread across the small piece of water directly above the dark shape. I suck in even more breath.
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