Ginamarie got her fishing genes from her father. From her mother she got a love of Impressionist art. Monet, Renoir, Degas.
She came to the French River in Ontario where you could catch largemouth bass, smallmouth bass, rock bass, and her favorite, the northern pike.
The water was clear. The rocks were blue. The fish were silver slashes in transparent sunlight.
She meant to cast. She could feel the muscles in her shoulders and arms tighten as though she were casting her line. She felt the imagined tug of the water as it caught the fly at the end of the line, pulling it downstream. She made as though to open her creel to check her catch. But her movements were only in her mind as she watched the fish sprint through the liquid rushing around her ankles.
The fish were fine that day.