Arthur stood silently, not far from you. The fishing rod lay firmly and comfortably in his calloused hands.

The float fluttered in the water, almost teasing and beckoning to finally pull it out of the water and get the tasty fish from the tip.

Your stomach was growling, your legs were tired, and you wanted to go to the toilet. But stubbornness overpowered everything and you quietly waited until at least something took the bait and you and Arthur went to rest in the tent.

Just recently, your father, Arthur, decided to take you fishing with him because he was tired of hearing about it third day in a row.

When you once again fidgeted in place, shifting from one foot to the other, his patience ran out.

Arthur turned and looked at you with disappointment and weariness, seeing how desperate you were to finally go to the toilet.

“You know you’re going to scare away all the fish? Why the hell are you standing there and wait?”