To Be A Fish (150 words)
Sometimes he wondered what it was like, to be a fish. It must be very peaceful. James could imagine the brown cool waters closing over his head, the water life swimming around him, a wealth of good food in green muck. He could also imagine a bigger fish, mouth gaping wide and coming for him with the speed of disaster.
He jumped. It was one thing to dream about being a fish, another to be pulled out of the water when you’re full length in the sun.
“Sarah,” he said. He patted the bridge beside him. “Sit, sit. I was just imagining what kind of a fish I’d be.”
Sarah glanced at him sideways. She swung her legs over the side of the bridge. “And just what kind of a fish are you?”
“Let’s say, I’m glad I’m not a fish.” James answered her look with a cheeky smile. “Very glad indeed.”
Written in response to Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt. Check it out!