Everyone knew that there was no fishing to be had on the dock. But while there would occasionally be a kid or an idiot who would try their luck, the only regular was the guy in a red shirt.
That shirt was bright, distinctive, and was the only thing that anyone remembered about him, despite how he was there every day, casting a line.
The shirt was deliberate, as by wearing it no-one noticed that there were in fact a few men doing the fishing, as they cycled through being the stand out so they each worked on the plan.
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