Dropping her line into Fool’s Lake, she patiently waited for something to bite. She’d done the same thing nearly every weekend for the past year without so much as a nibble. She didn’t know whether she was using different bait from the few others dotted around the lake; whether there was something at her particular spot – a little jetty tucked away near the river that fed the lake – that the fish seemed to steer clear form.
“Maybe today,” Sarah thought to herself.
But the truth was it didn’t matter. She didn’t mind. She didn’t come here for the fish but to get a break from the week before. Her job, her family, her life. She loved them all but at the same time there was a desperate need for some time alone with her thoughts and no distractions. It was a welcome peace and quiet.
Fool’s Lake wasn’t about the fish, no. It was about the ritual.
And it was about the solitude.
This piece of flash fiction was in response to a prompt from Mondays Finish the Story. Check it out if you fancy trying something similar.