I lift my paddle for a moment, hearing but not noting the drip of water that slides off its smooth, blond curve. My canoe slices through the morning cool, bisecting and self-healing the waters as I pass. Below the dark water, silent lake grass caresses sand and small, secret pebbles.
The sun had risen not half an hour ago. No one should have been up this early, not on a Sunday morning. And yet, there he was, a man on the shore, a man on my remote, wooded property, on a mostly unpopulated Northern lake.
He raised his hands to his mouth and called out into the still morning, “Hello! I’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s extended warranty!”
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2021)
*** This was a quick write, a five minute flash that whipped right past the ol’ critical editor and took me to some place I never expected to go. I highly encourage y’all to give it a whirl, find a group to play and share with, even if it’s only on Zoom for now.
Midtown Writer’s Group prompt: 5 minutes on “A man on the shore.”