When Miriam tugged too eagerly on her pole and tangled the line, he bent down to help her untwist it. But then, when she insisted he was doing it wrong, that the knot needed to be tighter, that the bobber should sit higher, details she had overheard from Daniel, something in him shifted.
His face hardened. His voice cut sharper than she had ever heard before. “If you know so much, do it yourself,” he snapped, shoving the pole back into her hands. The others froze, unsure how to react. Miriam’s cheeks burned. She opened her mouth to apologize, but his eyes had already turned away, fixed on the water as if she had ceased to exist.