From A Death in Felicity
Saturday morning, early. The only sounds in Moss’s trailer, waves collapsing against the shore below the bluff and the occasional screech of a gull. He opened an eye and smiled at the thought of the day ahead; a day of sun and fishing, an easy weekend away from an easy job.
He lay several minutes more until he finally pulled himself upright and swung his feet to the gritty floor. Moss swiped each foot once across a towel before stepping into his weekend uniform: shorts, flip-flops, a cutoff sweatshirt. He measured coffee into the pot’s steel basket, then added a scoop for luck. He set the pot on a burner and lit the propane flame, sat at the table and opened a book… (continue reading)






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