not all fishing is for catching
I ran into that couple we met on the dock, tying up after sail fishing, not that we caught anything, not that we intended to anyway, at least not me, must be a year ago.
I closed the laptop and walked to the sink.
I poured out my cup of tea and took a seat.
She says they set up a bicycle shop, but not the kind that require a license, often insurance as well, and while motorized, electric, need no more than something safe for your head.
The lion circled. The crowd has hushed.
The ringmaster held up hoop and pistol.
I asked how they were getting on, knowing he was seeing someone on the side, or so she suspected when it was just us girls and the two of you were swapping fish tales.
I knew she knew. I reached. She screamed.
The muzzle flashed. I fell, stood, fell again.
( Hypotaxis: clauses successively linked in an evolution of ideas. Parataxis: a sequence of short, simple sentences. )
