From his spot beneath the old willow tree, he stretched and decided it was time for a beer. He knew there weren’t actually any fish in this pond but it wasn’t about the catching; it was about the simple mindless act.
Since Karissa had gone, he’d spent a lot more time fishing. He didn’t want to dwell on inadequacies or faults or blame or any of that emotional claptrap. Thinking brought memories and with memories came pain. It was best to just have another beer, drown another worm and leave thinking for the rainy days when fishing wasn’t an option.
This story was written for BlogFlash2012 Day1: Thinking