14.
THE NEXT DAY, THE THIRTY-FIRST of October, 2017, Los Pelicanos, Baja California, bright sunshine, not a cloud in the sky. A few surfers were sitting on their boards on the break that was beyond the long straight stretch of the malecón above the beach. A pod of dolphins, unfazed by the surfers in wetsuits, lazily swam in a line about ten yards further out, their beaks slightly breaking the water’s surface, their dorsal fins moving higher into the air, and finally their flukes springing up, leaving a trail of water droplets. Jay and Lyn had coffee on the patio. Lyn reclined in a lounge chair, her eyes shaded by a straw hat. Jay read a book, a collection of essays written by David Foster Wallace. He occasionally chuckled at a passage, a muted version of a nearby squawking seagull. She co
