It's been a week now and I'm still a touch tan. J.J. and I made a point of having aformentioned coconut-infused drink each day. They were so weak even I didn't feel it. Sitting on the edge of the Caribbean, what good would it do to be drunk anyway?
I was sitting on the sand when the tide shifted slightly. Waves started coming in at a 35 degree angle. The rope and bobble started whacking against my leg. I started to get up when I noticed something in the water. You notice when things wash up in the Caribbean, because it's otherwise so clear and pure. I was a tiny fish, not even a centimeter long. When the tide pulled out it remained on the sand, whirring. It was bright green and irridescent. Its eye took up half its body. It whirred to an amazing height -- several times its own size.
Several more waves came in, but didn't go up far enough to reclaim the fish. I considered trying to pick it up and throw it back. Surely my touch would kill it. I blew on it and tried to shoo it toward the water. The fish stopped moving. Finally the water carried it away.
I went back to the pool and put on my hat and coverup. I ordered a piña colada. It was late afternoon. The pool was finally calm after 2 days of domination by soccer players with buzzed hair and black tattoos. I had seen them loading onto a bus that morning. One woman about my age remained in the pool with her boyfriend. A speaker blared The Eagles Greatest Hits.
"Woooooo!" she said. "WOOOOOOOOOO!"
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