She left a note that he did not understand: "Gone Fishing". That was it. No signature. No furniture. He'd forgotten that most of the furniture was her's. His father's velour rocker and his TV was all he had left. He'd have to buy a lamp. He gobbled an Omega 3 capsule, (a habit she got him into after his brother had a heart attack), chased it with a long gulp of James Ready Light and plopped down in the rocker. He reached for the remote to turn on the TV, then realized that ws her's as well. He pondered the note. She'd never been fishing as far as he jnew. He'd never been fishing. It never seemed too practical a waste of time to him. He read the note again, tried to detect a quiver of emotion in her writing, searching to detect tears in her script. It was hard to decipher. She wrote ia all in capital letters, but he thought he detected a slight trmor in the exclamation mark. He sipped on the James Ready Light and calculated the time they'd been together. 3 Years, 5 months and 16 days. Not bad, he thought. He rose from the rocker, walked across the room, turned on the TV.