Sherry pulled her paddle out of the water and set it inside her canoe. She leaned back, content to allow inertia and the current to take her forward for the next stretch. Then she grabbed hand sanitizer out of her pocket because she knew what might be festering in the Chicago river.
Sherry looked at the toxic yet peaceful waters around her and tried to see if any of the nearby rocks were really turtles. The results were inconclusive; she reminded herself to schedule her next eye appointment. A great blue heron landed on the branch of an oak tree and a family of mallards swam in a circle by the river bank.
Sherry put the sanitizer back in her pocket and took her telephone out. She was nearing a bridge where the L crosses the river. She was hoping to get a good photo for Instagram and come up with some pithy caption about juxtaposition.
Her damp fingers and persnickety phone didn’t prove to be the most cooperative team, but she managed to get a “decent enough” photo before she got too close.
She even spotted some fauna on the bridge, maybe a beaver.
Sherry was about to pocket her phone, when she heard the train coming. Maybe she could snatch one more photo. She leaned back, nearly laying down flat in the canoe. The train roared, the phone clicked, something thumped, and the canoe shook.
Half a raccoon spilled over her shirt.
“I’m going to need more sanitizer.”