The water was calm. She gripped the pole and braced. Her instincts were spot on. The type of fish that bit the lure? It doesn't matter. All that mattered were the seconds when the dance would occur. The guiding pulls. The fluid pause. The furious reeling. Repeat. This ain't your mother's waltz.

She brought up the tarpon onto the deck. Wiped her hands on her Reef Pirate shirt. She's off to find a new dance partner.

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