Wild Goose Chase
A scene of misdirection
What an appalling day!
Yet, sitting beside the river, watching the swallows soothed her. Surprisingly, Annie Lennox playing in the distance soothed her, as well. The smiling waiter brought her a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. Even better.
Her feelings of apprehension dissipated along with the fading colors of the sunset. Now there was more color in the river than in the sky. One of the swallows dipped down and touched the river. Was it catching a bug or taking a drink? After a few more birds did the same, she decided they were catching bugs.
The river seemed a little low. Retaining rocks were visible on the opposite bank. She had heard that the snowpack was only 40% of usual this year. Silver streaks in the water intersected the shimmering green shadows of the trees at a slight angle. Was it currents or wind? She couldn’t tell.
“Ya watchin’ our tweety birds out there? Aren’t they great?” The waiter smiled and placed before her an artistically presented salmon on spinach and wild rice with a zig-zag of yellow sauce on top.
She had come here for consolation, but decided to expense the meal to make up for the treatment she’d received today. The bastards! No, don’t think about that now. She wouldn’t let those weasels spoil this exquisite meal. Well, OK, not…
