Ten kilos. That’s all the school prawns that came in last night. On the sounder it looked like Christmas. Big ball of life. Classic “here we go” moment. Meet the villain: Cold water. Not a shark. Not a broken net. Just a tongue of cold brine pushing up the shelf, turning the prawns around like a bouncer at the Beachie. I walked into the office this morning, buzzing: “How’d the trawlers go?” Ian didn’t buzz back. “Ten kilos.” Keyboard clacking stops. “What happened?” “That’s fishing.” Same boat.