Freshest Catch

I waited for her that morning.  She had to run into the office to drop off some last minute paperwork and then she was free to start her vacation.  She would up feeling fresh.

I made my way down to grab a freshly brewed coffee and a handmade crumpet.  It was nice to sit down near the window and see how the sun turned the puddles outside into mirrors; the light scattered casting a beautiful light on the buildings, the dogs, the cyclists, the briefcases.

I looked up the road.  She was probably still in the office talking to Corrynne, her boss, with last minute explanations of what and how and where stuff was.  This happened everytime she took her vacation.  Panic settled into the office.

I finished my crumpet and coffee.  The buzz in the Crumpet Shop gave you just the right vibrations to start your day.  I had started my vacation early.  I started the day before.  No panic, no late night rush for paperwork.  Just a signature.  Bob gave me a nod. Gerald in accounting gave me some grief. But, that was the extent it.  I was hoping to catch enough of those vibes to feel good about my time off.  As soon as she arrives.

I stand and a Japanese couple was taking my table.  I hadn’t even considered leaving when they introduced a coffee mug onto the table.  For a brief, brief second I thought she was a server.  Servers don’t wear heavy rain coats and hot pink boots.  Not in there.

I got up.

I headed across the way and I could see Anders catching fish.  Anders is a nice guy.  You just have to get to know him. He’ll smile at those he knows and stare blankly at you if he doesn’t.  Not in a mean way, it’s just his wool cap that makes him seem intimidating.  And his large hands.  And his strength.

“Hey, Anders.”

He stared blankly at me.

Shit, what did I do?

His eyes were burning holes in my face as his eyebrows encroached into his eyes.

“Good morning.”

I looked up and he was laughing his ass off.


The word Butterfish had one too many syllables and Anders turned just in time to catch it.  He scanned the “audience”.

“Black Cod?  Butterfish?”

A little hand stuck out from behind a flanneled shoulder.


Anders was busy.  I turned to look outside and there she was.

Smiling.  It had the makings of a great vacation.


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