All the following week I hoped she might come through the door, but things like that don’t happen in real life. I went to the office occasionally, but mostly went walking or fishing. Hondo kept others away and let me do what I had to do.
One fine evening as sunset turned the high, streaming clouds to florescent pastels of peach and aqua, I leaned against the rail on the pier, watching the line at the end of my rod for any movement. My thoughts drifted to our last night together and how she gave everything she had to me.
A fisherman walked by and said, “Thinking about the one that got away?”
I nodded, “Yes I am.”
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