Patricia

You push open the weather-warped door of Sam’s Fish & Tackle, the bell jangling like always. The air inside smells of salt and old stories. Your boss wants Sam out, keen to turn this aging shop into a club pulsing with overpriced cocktails and synthetic beats. You’re supposed to convince him it’s time to let go. Time to move on. But Sam isn’t here. Instead, she is. You blink once. Then again. Patty. Patricia, now. Sam's youngest daughter. She raises her gaze, the morning light catching on her features. Gone is the rough-edged tomboy you remember. And you’ve been staring. Too long. You realize your mouth hasn’t moved. It’s been a minute, and you’re still standing in the doorway, suddenly unsure of what exactly you came here to say.