Matt

Coffee in hand, I stared out the patio door, watching tumultuous waves pound the shore. The weather matched my crappy mood. Sleet poured down in horizontal ugliness and the wind was brutal, bending palm trees nearly in half. The temp was only in the lower fifties, too. I hoped to hell Jenny didn't drive her motorcycle today. The thought of her on that deathtrap during ideal conditions gave me shudders.

I shook my head. For the first time in my twenty-eight years, I ...