It was a lot like the sun had gone down, but it was hiding behind loads of water clinging to ten thousand feet. Instead, we still had two hours to search the shore for color before the sun dipped into the loads of water clinging to the beach.
Spinning end to end, the air smelled like a fire was starting with only lighter fluid. The drift wood and gas station lumber were safe for the moment. Armed with coffee cups and Iowa distilled rye, we followed the steps back up to the surfside.
Wearing out my welcome in even the places I’m from, we made our way inland.