I went to the marina for petrol and stayed because somebody had painted the bait shed purple. At night, its sign turned the water the colour of grape juice. Beneath the reflection, a bass moved past with the confidence of a regular customer.
My fluorescent spinner looked outrageous in daylight. Under the marina lamps it looked like the obvious choice. I cast beside the far pontoon and immediately caught a reflection, which was much easier to retrieve than the actual fish.
THE MARINA GETS A LITTLE LOUDER
On the next pass, the bass hit so hard that my orange hat slid over one eye. I spent the first half of the fight looking like a man trying to read a menu through a curtain. By the time I fixed it, the fish was beside the boat.
It was magnificent: green, silver and much too composed for the circumstances. I let it go beneath the purple light. Back at the pump, I remembered why I had come. The boat still needed petrol. Apparently a great story does not fill the tank.
Remember the errand, but leave room for the detour.
