The clouds hovered over the usually sunny seashore village. She looked up, worried about the oncoming storm. The boats had left this morning, her father's boat was a part of the fleet, and they had not returned. It was almost sunset and as the sky showed, a storm was approaching. The boats should have been back hours ago.
She headed down to the shore, peering into the passing houses. Made out of tattered wood, they were decorated by handmade curtains and rugs. The women spent most of their day knitting, earning their livelihood from the little they sold. She dreaded the day when she would have to do the same. Her preference was fishing; knitting was a waste of time. She thought the same about fishing but as there were no other options, she preferred fishing.
On reaching the shore, she waded out to sea to her favorite rock. Shaped like table with jagged edges, it was a few minutes swim from the beach. She stood up on it, looking out to sea for the familiar fleet, but saw nothing except waves and clouds. The unruly waves crashed against the jagged edges of the rock and the clouds above rumbled, floating closer to the shore. She sat down; her mouth set in a frown, her forehead wrinkled with worry.
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