Hal tugged the fish up as sludgy waves lapped across what used to be called Front Street. It was a big catch, maybe four pounds, and only had a few black marks. He skipped along the rusty reef of cars to the trenches of Main Street, finding himself sweating hard as he reached the estuary sprawling across Ventura Avenue. Mosquito season approached with more dread every year. Hal cradled his treasure as he climbed over the petrified Mariposa that had crushed the mission bell tower ten years ago and began cooking his breakfast, wondering how long until he’d see another fish.
"Ventura, 2100" originally appeared in the VC Reporter's Fiction 101 issue on June 9th, 2016.