A dwarf sat on a small boat floating on top a large lake. He sat looking at the water, with a spear that juts upon the sky and a bucket of chum, as a mother and son stopped at the lake.

“Mama who’s that?” said the boy.

“I don’t know sweetie, don’t worry, he always sits on his little boat.”

“Does he ever get lonely sitting on his boat?”

“He might get lonely”

“I think he’s lonely”

“Why do you think that sweetie?”

“I don’t know”

“Don’t worry about him”

“It’s odd seeing someone like him”

“Yes it is sweetie”

The water shook. The dwarf grabbed his spear.

“I hope he isn’t lonely forever.”

The mother and son continue their walk.

“Fuck. Another fish.”

Something different, no personal essay. Here is a short story in the style of Ernest Hemingway