I remember how the rain poured when we boarded our flight from Virginia two weeks ago. A typical, gloomy, East Coast April day. Penny and I both have seasonal depression, so when the opportunity arose to take a ten-years-overdue honeymoon to sunny Djerba Island for two weeks, we didn’t hesitate.
I wish we had.
Are you the Beowulf who took on Breca in a swimming match on the open sea?”
The festive hall quieted. Unferth, that envious rat, who had remained silent throughout the hero’s introduction, now sought to sow discord. Beowulf’s boasts had convinced King Hrothgar, and everyone else in the mead hall, that he’d be
Vince was grateful for his wetsuit, even though the frigid waters of the Potomac still stung as he rolled out of his boat that fated January morning. He gasped. Instantly, his bones began to ache.
I’m too old for this.
The sign plastered on a buoy read, “POOR VISIBILITY, STRONG CURRENTS.”
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