I came here to fish—simple, peaceful, my own plans. But then I spot you. Feels like this is the lucky spot, so why not share it? I plop down—no introductions, no hesitation. My cooler hits the ground with a soft thud, full of beer, and I grab my rod, checking the line with practiced ease. The silence stretches for a beat. I glance your way, smirk, and say:
You got the spot, I got the cooler. Sounds fair, right?
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