At breakfast I found a strip of transparent fabric caught on the boat hook. Underwater it turned almost invisible, except for one trembling edge. I tied a tiny piece behind a blue lure and took Maybe Tomorrow out to the reef.
The bright water looked irresistible. I cast into it for half the morning and caught exactly one strand of weed. Beside the reef, however, a darker channel curled beneath an overhang. Something broad moved there whenever the sun slipped behind a cloud.
The reef keeps a spare key
I let the ribbon drift through the shadow. A bass rushed out so quickly that I saw the open mouth before I felt the pull. The boat swung sideways; my lunch rolled under the seat. For several seconds, everything in the lagoon seemed attached to that fish.
It finally came alongside in a cloud of bubbles. I unhooked it in the shallows and watched it return to the shade. The brightest part of the reef made a fine picture. The overlooked part made the story.
Sometimes the interesting water is the patch you passed over.
