cabin fever

Cabin Fever.

It had been raining for a week, to think it was
August; from the window in the cabin I had
view of the fjord, a man, in a boat, sat fishing
shielded by a yellow parasol. You can only do
so much with a view, gave up trying to change it.
Picked up a book, from a corner where it had
been flung and began reading. Heard someone,
guessed it was the angler, coming up the track,
quickly locked the door, then hid behind the sofa.
Long knocking, finally the visitor gave up, but
the room darkened for a long time, as he looked
through the window. Saw him climb back into
his boat, protected from the rain by his yellow
parasol, too late now to ask him what he wanted.