The first chill of Autumn had crept into the early hours. It laid its hand upon Tristram’s face, as he lay dreaming in the cottage. The run upon the beach had exhausted his body but left his imagination restless. A cool wind rustled the leaves of the old gum tree, and twigs reported loudly upon the tin roof…
What are you dreaming, Tristram? Asks a soft, lilting tenor.
What are you dreaming, TristramI’m not sure…Tristram’s mind answers absently.
I’m not sureChange is coming.
Change is comingYeah…I know…
YeahI knowThe sea is furious and stormy as the maroon van hums away into the hills behind the beach. The fishermen and their comforting fires are gone, and the stars are obscured by dark cloud.
Did they leave without you?
Did they leave without youTristram shook his head.
I chose to
