in creative writing journal

Marty? Nessie?

Walking along the Paint Creek a few days ago, the temperature a brisk 5 degrees, I saw a mink* sitting on a sheet of ice, staring at the rushing water. The animal reminded of this guy I used to work with who would sit in his cube and stare out the doorway at the path scuffed into the carpeting, the expression on his face illuminating his inconsolable regret at his choice of careers.

*I thought it was an otter at first, but the mink seems to have a shorter tail and a darker coat.

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