When he looks up from his book, there’s a shadow on the lake, cast from a cloudless sky. It takes him a moment to figure out if he should swim for shore or stay on the safety of the floating dock. In the end, the shadow decides for him, drifting between him and land.

There’s no passage to the sea, not here, so it should have meant he was safe– but safe is such a hollow word now. He tries to gauge how large it is, what species, but the wind has picked up and the waves distort the image. If it’s close to the surface, he’s safe, the smaller ones rarely take humans as prey. But if it’s deeper– he stays still, trying to shift the raft as little as possible.

The cell phone’s in the car, so are the emergency flares. All he can do is wait it out and hope something else catches it’s attention.