My eyes narrowly open, lifting my eyelids feels like lifting boulders. I stumble to my kitchen table, the dirty dishes stare into my soul. I reach for a mug and press start on the machine. At that moment, liquid gold begins to pour out of the machine. The nutty and caramel aroma screams out into the room and drains into my cup. I dip my fingers inside for a temperature check, and a sensation of liquid lava attacks my finger, so I rip my finger out of the cup. I barrel over to the fridge and grab the cold half & half. I pour it into my mug so fast that it splashes onto the table. I grasp and pull the cup to my mouth. My shoulders relax, and my smile dazzles on my face. The salted caramel flavor blossoms my taste buds. Now my eyes open as easily as a door. My headache is exiled by such a wonderful feeling.

I stumble out of my door, I turn to close the screen door and take another sip. The birds chirp while I take a seat near the river. I can feel the humidity off from my breath, and the moisture in the air fills my tongue and skin. The sun begins to rise off of the horizon.

What could be better than this? I ask myself. I reach for my lure as I tuck my coffee into the cup holder. The cast rips past my head, and the bob falls into the water. Soon enough the sun is above the horizon and my luck has seemed to run out.

My grandpa always said, “The best part about fishing, isn’t actually fishing, but finding the most mysterious things” I told myself. 

The bob dips under, I scramble to my seat and begin to reel and pull. The reel pushes me closer to the river, and the wind blows the rushing river faster. I grip my rod. I grip my rod tight. I grip my rod so tight that the skin on my fingers begins to peel and scrape. Out of the grace of God,  my rod stops thrusting. I sit in disbelief. I really lost the fish. 

The river begins to part, and a massive creature arrives from the water. Its skin is of seaweed flesh. Its head has a mohawk of scales. Its feet have flippers. Its hands have knives as fingers. Its teeth are sharper than glass. Its red, bloodshot eyes stare into mine. My lure hits the ground and I look into his eyes, frozen. 

“Permission to indulge in a satisfiable amount of your salted caramel coffee?” It asks

My fingers shake as I reach for the cup, its knife finger points to the mug. I reach over to it and place the coffee in its hand. I tremble as he puts the mug to his mouth. The 3-second pause feels like 3 hours.

“Well thank you young, courteous sir. I will now recuperate at my original, pre-coffee location in the seas. However, as thou protrude such good qualities, I must show my gratefulness” It says.

He reaches near me and gives me a hug. The slime and water on my sweatshirt reek of dead fish. He stares at me for one final time. A mere 30-foot-high jump and he has catapulted into the water. 

The river truly has the most mysterious things.