8
Dryas
I stand at the window as the last rays of the sunlight vanish behind the earth. I feel as mercurial as the waves below, trying to figure out my next move.
As I mull over my situation, the sea is as tempestuous as ever it was.
Psssh, passss. Psssh, passss. Psssh, passss.
How difficult it must be to be in the thrall of the moon. Forced to push and pull its massive self, one way and then another, back and forth forever.
Psssh, passss. Psssh, passss. Psssh, passss.
I could listen to the ocean tell the story of its woe for hours. Swirling a tumbler of whiskey, I listen to the faint clinking of the ice cubes. I watch the dark waves recede and then wash over the shore anew.
My mind wanders to Rue. Pretty little thing, though she’s strangely resistant to everything I’ve suggested s
