Somebody needs a new door return. I'm way too far away to hear traffic from there but the guttural moan of that guy's tranny protesting gravity is loud and clear. Twenty bucks says the card players are drinking. The game keeps getting rowdier and rowdier as the night wears on. The phone rings again.
Somebody's in love.
The little gal previously so aggravated by Jeremy lets off a laugh so sharp and shrill that is ricochets off the hills to my right and echoes back after a full two second delay in two staccato burst that sound like a seagull trying to imitate her. No other sound has echoed back like that all night. It must be the register of her voice. The waves from a boat in the main channel of the lake finally make it into my bay, grinding the floating section of my dock against the cribs of the stationary part. I'm not anchored off Bimini any more, I'm in a creaking pirate ship in heavy seas off Antigua.