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The beach was calm and quiet, the tide barely moving, in a state of midsummer stagnation. Then, Charlie fell from the sky. He impacted the powdery sand with a muffled thud, and, after a minute or two of fatigued shock, he miraculously composed himself. On nights like this, when Charlie got the shit kicked out of him, he did one of two things. One was that he would sit in bed and disengage until he was too tired to stay awake, or he would do the same thing on the ferris wheel. Charlie's better judgement told him to just go home and call it a night, but Charlie's fight or flight instinct had been exhausted to that of a moth and the glow of the wharf was enticing, so it was a ferris wheel night, he guessed. |