Wonderful

Oh, I want to meet Claudia, to have supper with her and kick off our shoes in front of the fire and talk into the night. I love your description of her, how she acquires opinions, and your final comparison of her with the silver-haired siren Oliver's infatuated with. Who, it sounds like, would have him figured out in a second and dismiss him even quicker. Fascinating, Bob.

The pair of laughing gulls stood side by side on the sand facing the tradewinds and watched the couple walking toward them. The gulls, dressed in black with white bellies, looked to her like a pair of prim butlers standing with their hands behind their backs watching the antics of their employers with a superior air. "Look at those birds," she said to him as they neared the birds. "Don't they look like they're judging us?" He glanced up and nodded, the smoke from his cigarette riding the breeze to twine around his face before streaming away. "They're just gulls," he said, aiming a listless kick at them. The little puff of sand he scuffed in their direction sent the birds running up the beach a bit, making her laugh. Frustrated that they hadn't flown away, he stooped, picked up a fist-sized chunk of coral, and tossed it at the birds. They squawked and flew up to circle out over the waves, filling the air with their laughing call. The couple moved on, the man oddly cheered by his act of harassment, the woman wrapping her arms across her midriff as if she were cold.

And that's it for last night. I'm coming into the home stretch, picture wise, so soon I'll be looking at all these disparate pieces and putting them together into a cohesive story. Maybe.

I got a rejection from The First Line--again. They said they got a truckload of Santa stories. So much for being original. Oh well, I'll try again. I'm determined that some day they'll accept one; I'll wear 'em down if I have to.

--Barbara