They could easily carry on walking in the direction of home and miss the whole thing. If it went on behind anyone as they walked along the river bank, for example, they might not even turn around. It wouldn’t be a big deal – the monster’s coming up from beneath wouldn’t be a big show. I could remain like this all day I expect, and not get any closer to working it out. And yet, for all the world, it appears perfectly composed. Would it be a scaly monster with a tremendous tail I wonder, or something wraithlike with straggly wings? Will it, in other words, be something dredged or something fallen? A decision doesn’t fix because the day is actually more nuanced than at first appeared – and anyway, I don’t know where exactly, but there is something shifting and suddenly the whole scene is quite altered. I don’t have to see her any more, walking by and going into her house – it’s nice actually. They’re high enough that I don’t see Mary getting out of her car. The flowers are lovely instead, especially the roses. And I didn’t say anything, not a word, about the creature beneath the water. My mascara came away in the night and for that hat to look any good requires a little recent eye adornment – I realise that. I didn’t put on my hat even though it’s as cold as forever and the hat’s right there in my bag at the bottom. Along with the photo on your travel pass, they move me.

Handwriting, here and there – little notes, as you go along, things not to forget. The sound of the machine drying the bathmat behind me in front of you, very low – a good machine. Like notches or rungs – or struts or bolts – something. Look at the rowers! Two long boats and bodies – rowers – like rungs or something.

Ominous – yes, like the calm before the storm. Look at the rowers – look at how fast the rowers are going.

Pond by claire louise bennett