Tom ate his fish, enjoyed it. Then began cleaning up. First his plate, then the grilling drum.
When he was done, he sat on a swing he’d erected and had a smoke, watching the river wander by.
When he finished his cigarette he went inside, took his new toothbrush, used it, washed his face, carried his old toothbrush to the table. He’d find a use for it.
Seeing the shack in perfect condition, he went out, got on his bike and rode towards his house.
It was under a mile, but he was old and loved riding. He decided to go to the petrol station, so passed his house.
He reached the station, filled his tank, checked his battery and oil, spoke to the attendants for a few minutes, then went ‘home’.