Port Emerald, Fla., 1992 

“I gotta tell ya, Cecily. That bathing suit just isn’t you.”

“I gotta tell ya, Dallas. Basic human interactions and intelligent, sensitive comments just aren’t you.”

Seated on a lonely fishing pier at a remote beach area in Port Emerald, Fla., Cecily Jacobs decided that Port Emerald Pier was not quite lonely or remote enough; seeing that she couldn’t seem to lose the obnoxious boyfriend who shared her stretch of the pier.

“You promised to lose twenty pounds before our vacation.” Dallas Hillford thrust forth his prized fishing rod, aiming his reel for a large green fin that protruded upward in the water.

“You seem to take such great pride in that big, long reel.” A smirking Cecily snuck a long, hooded glance at his unobtrusive groin. “Could you, by chance, be overcompensating for something rather small?”

Her smirk dissolved to a concerned frown seconds later, as Dallas’ hook snagged its target: the smooth, gem-hued fin that seemed too large to belong to a typical fish of the sea.

“What is that thing?” She pointed toward the fin, jumping to her feet as a low, keening wail arose from the waters below her. “Whatever it is, you’re hurting it!”

“Well dear, that is kinda the point of fishing. You do have to kill the thing before you eat it.” Dallas rolled his eyes. “And it looks like I’ve got the catch of the day.”

Ignoring her boyfriend’s sarcasm, Cecily jumped headfirst from the pier, her body hitting the waters below with a loud, resounding splash. Wincing as the creature’s wailing and crying became more keen and insistent, she ripped the hook from its fin and tossed it into the water.

“I cannot believe that you just did that.” Shaking his head, an apathetic Dallas stood to his feet and reeled in his line. “Thanks to you, the catch of the day just became the one that got away.”