James Jerome and Zoe Thatcher started fishing with the 'gold-plated' hooks they had exchanged for a hefty sum. One minute, two minutes, three minutes... twenty minutes passed, and amidst the biting cold wind, the two exchanged glances, then looked over at Mary Scott, who'd just reeled in another fish, "..."
So why weren't their fish biting?
Zoe sighed deeply, while James looked in Mary's direction with a face full of grievances and said to Zoe, "Little Zoe, go check if her bait's different from ours."
Zoe quickly got up and dashed over to Mary, then just as quickly dashed back. "Uncle Foster, her bait's the same as ours."
"Could it be the posture?" James glanced at Mary before curling himself into an awkward quail-like shape.
Zoe, "..."
Posture? Isn't that a little absurd?
"Whoa, a fish bit the hook!" James shouted excitedly just as he changed his posture.
Zoe was taken aback. Could it really be a posture issue?
