by Andrea Nolan
The girl felt a flick against her instep, and although the drowse of the day was thick upon her, she knew that when she opened her eyes her father’s fishing rod would be gone from where she had held it under her foot. She stood at the dock’s edge and looked at the blue-brown water. The concentric circles of the pole’s disappearance had only just begun their outward expansion. There was still a chance to catch the rod.