Fiction | December 01, 2004
Color of the Sea
Peter Selgin
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Tell me about loneliness.
At 1:45 in the morning, the sky, the sea and the horizon were all the same greasy black. Andrew Shields lay streched out on a life preserver casing, smoking a Lucky Strike, the diesel-tossed wind curling his hair, the ferry’s engines throbbing below him.
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