Not Much to Look At: © R.D. Girvan
Patrick heard her coming, heels chocking on the weathered boards of the dock, long before he saw her. He adjusted the bumper on his rented yacht and went over to say ‘hello.’ This section of the Marina was only for owners; he was squatting. Could only help, to make a new friend.
“Hello,” he said, and introduced himself.
“Hi Patrick,” she said, setting down a heavy bag to shake his hand. “I’m Michelle.”
Patrick had heard that the Michelle Colmstock moored down this end. Was it possible that this was her? The Member of the Marina’s Board Michelle, the owner’s sister Michelle, the youngest heir of the Stockyard Distillery Michelle – could this be that Michelle, looking up at him right now?
“Heading out for a sail?” he asked. Then, to divert attention from his clumsy attempt at conversation (We’re on a dock, dummy, he thought, chances are good she is going out), he quickly followed up with, “Which one’s yours?”
Hello, Gang of Glorious Readers, Rhea here.
I am entering stories into contests, some of which do not allow any publication of any kind, even on a wee blog like mine. So if you would like to read the entire story, send me your email address and I will forward it to you.
Best always, RDG