8 - Meditation on the Pier
Liar, liar, liar! said the gulls.
Josh completed for himself: pants on fire!
Early Saturday morning on the pier, the place was deserted except for the gulls who, somehow, thought the contents of the canvas bags Josh was carrying contained their own breakfast.
His steps echoed on the graying wood boards. The calm sea had not yet gotten the memo to rise and shine, despite the low clouds passing from a deep slumbering purple to the dark red of a cauldron left unattended on the stove.
He passed the Kon Tikki entrance, two steps then the enclosed terrace, noting the damn birds had left whitish, gluey offerings on the tabletops.
He had though it great to have an open-sky place, to forget about the stuffy VIP room of the Lucky Traveler. Rafe’s buddies often congre
