Sitting in the warm sunshine, at a wooden table in front of a GS25, across from the marina.
People walk past me alone or in pairs. Couples with matching black outfits (because it is winter); older men or ladies; single girls walking tiny dogs. Everybody is wearing a mask. Some listen to music or podcasts or some kind of radio program on their phones or small radios. Others talk on their phones. Some glance at me, most do not. A woman pushes a baby carriage. There is a dog inside it. Another pushes a baby carriage with a baby. Two bicycles.
Across the road in the marina, a fishing boat starts its engine. It sounds smooth and strong. At first I think its a large motorbike or a sports car. It isn't rough and abrasive sounding as fishing boat engines often are. Between me and the fishing boat, on the small road next to the walking path, cars quietly and slowly buzz by. Scooters with yellow baskets jury-rigged; their drivers wearing construction helmets.
I see the radar on the fishing boat has been turned on. It starts to move. The sun has dropped and there is a chill at my back.