A large man wearing camouflage cover-alls took a knee at the edge of the grass before the dock. One hand held a stout object vertically beside him, either a rifle or a fishing pole; it was hard to tell from this distance. He certainly looked like a hunter in that getup, but why pause here? The tiny pond was covered with algae, stagnant looking. If I were a fish, I’d not live in it.
A heavy young lady skipped onto the dock. It cost her some effort to leap from the shore onto the wooden platform, but she immediately slowed to conserve energy with her next two steps. She spun on her toes to face the man, legs now twisted. She paused in a flirtatious pose, the kind from which you would take a photo for your profile pic.
The man did not have a camera. Still down on one knee he must have spoken to her and she held her position. Was he proposing? There on the dock? Or telling her not to scare the fish?
I rode by too quickly to find out.