Staring. My new vocation is staring.
It’s not a choice. These glassy thoughts slip through my fingers before I get a chance to put them onto paper.
So my beach party is more of a test of wills than a wild celebration, a standoff between me and the unflappable ocean.
I’m fairly certain about who wins and what happens in the end. That doesn’t mean I won’t give it my eyeballing all.
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