Joni’s fishing

Joni sped through the forest trail, his souped-up 80cc dirt bike roaring beneath him, the speedometer nudging past 110 km/h. He gripped the handlebars like his life depended on it, which, in moments, it nearly did. Each tight curve and unexpected rock jerked him off balance, and in those brief seconds, he felt the razor-thin line between control and chaos, between the thrill and the crash.

Finally reaching the secluded lake, he slowed, cutting the engine as he caught his breath, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

The stillness of the lake pulled him in; the water seemed to absorb his frenzied energy. Reaching into his sturdy Adidas backpack, he pulled out his brand-new Patriot fillet knife, its steel blade gleaming in the sunlight, and his fishing rod, the lure catching glints of light as he prepped his line.