Could this tiny, tiny shriveled emptiness be the same man who had inspired all that fear, all that shame, for all those years? The focus of that awe-f...lled fear of ‘something to cry about’? The source of all the shriveling insults, searing satires, and sharp, sudden, slaps in the face? Jeff forces his mind to fix on those long-gone summer seasons, on he all day jaunts to the beach, on the raucous, joy-filled family Christmases, gifts piled high, on the walks to feed the ‘polly’, on the baseball. The elements make it impossible to make out anything more than twenty feet away, but all my other senses feel heightened. I can feel every raindrop on my skin, hear each wave crashing below even through the downpour, and my heart is racing in my chest with nerves at the prospect of seeing her again.And there she is, leaning against the railings at the end of the pier with her back turned. Her red hair standing out even in the darkness.Arriving beside her, I lean against the railings too. For a. More

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