It was only the beginning of summer and though the air was still frigid, especially by the coast, the heat of the sun gave strength and courage enough to wear short sleeved everything. Breaking through the thinning tree line to the hilly beach of black sands, deafened by wind and crashing of the dark bitter north pacific waves, in the midst of it all would be the place to read.

Good God above, did it feel fresh as virgin snow. Glourious noon day as it was and still not a soul besides what was left of my own, it was certain to be all to myself. From the sack, was drawn out a rolled up towel, a worn book, water, sunscreen and a convincing bbgun pistol.

Unraveling the towel, the wind fought it from staying flat on the warm dry and dark sands. Having gathered four smoothed stones, carefully chosen for visual appeal and alikeness, I layed them on each corner, overcoming the winds' spite.