[artwork by Timo Grubing]
I always enjoyed fishing right before the sun came up, a tradition started years ago with my father. He’s been gone for two decades, but I still carry his old spear with me, despite having moved on to fishing rods. Something about the presence of that steel harpoon comforts me.
When I first saw her, I thought she was a fragment of my sleep deprived imagination. The sun had just started its ascent when the waters stilled. It was then she broke the surface, slow and silent. Large blue eyes stared at me with curious assessment and I blinked, unsure if what I was seeing was real. Before I could get a closer look she’d dipped back beneath the surface, vanishing from sight.