There was no escaping the ocean.
That should have been obvious. Manta Carlos was an island, so by its very definition, the place was surrounded by the sea. But Lochlann thought that maybe, just maybe, things would be different here.
He grew up in the Atlantic, quite literally. He was used to the feel of sea spray. When they came inland and set up home in the river, it was like moving from the wide open plains of Montana to the hustle of New York. Now he was back in the ocean, but it was the wrong ocean. He wanted to feel homesick, but he didn't have a home to feel sick for.
Lochlann would normally sit on the most secluded part of the beach, somewhere he could disappear into the waves if he wanted to. But he wasn't. He was laying on his back, looking up at the sun, near the edge of a well-warn footpath. He'd borrowed a radio from the library and it sat behind him, making noise that was probably music. He didn't care. He liked it.
He laid in the sand, dozing, until he thought he heard footsteps on the path. He lifted up his head and said,
"Oh, it's you," but he wasn't sure if he was hallucinating. He'd been in the sun for a while, but Lochlann wasn't drinking.
That should have been obvious. Manta Carlos was an island, so by its very definition, the place was surrounded by the sea. But Lochlann thought that maybe, just maybe, things would be different here.
He grew up in the Atlantic, quite literally. He was used to the feel of sea spray. When they came inland and set up home in the river, it was like moving from the wide open plains of Montana to the hustle of New York. Now he was back in the ocean, but it was the wrong ocean. He wanted to feel homesick, but he didn't have a home to feel sick for.
Lochlann would normally sit on the most secluded part of the beach, somewhere he could disappear into the waves if he wanted to. But he wasn't. He was laying on his back, looking up at the sun, near the edge of a well-warn footpath. He'd borrowed a radio from the library and it sat behind him, making noise that was probably music. He didn't care. He liked it.
He laid in the sand, dozing, until he thought he heard footsteps on the path. He lifted up his head and said,
"Oh, it's you," but he wasn't sure if he was hallucinating. He'd been in the sun for a while, but Lochlann wasn't drinking.