SET TO SAIL
By Neel Anil Panicker
Crouched on the wooden planks of the single seater canoe, its top helpfully covered in blue plastic sheets, Richard squinted his eyes and peered out into the dark, his sleep deprived eyes scanning the imposing heights that rose and enveloped the narrow stream from all sides; at the red bricked assembly line of row houses stacked one on top of the other.
His X-ray vision zoned in on one particular direction, and particularly, at the match-sized third floor corner flat to his left, and soon enough his midnight vigil paid dividends as he watched the curtain lights fade out and then a slowly, like the parting of the mythological Red Sea, the curtains parted and out there, stood__a smile dancing on her almond shaped visage__his lady love Angelina, her shimmering white silhouette reflected in the crystal clear waters below.
He found himself swimming in the high tide of emotions but quickly regained composure and mulled his next move; which was how to escape with the love of his life before dawn when the pier would come alive with early morning chatter and the pitter patter of fishermen and seafarers getting ready for the day’s business.
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Three Line Tales, Week 122
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