She sat on the end of her dock with her elbows on her knees, her body curved like a quarter moon. I felt bad for invading her time. She would never want anyone to see her like that. A quiet moment on a Sunday morning. Not such a tough girl. Not at all.She turned when I was still a few paces from her.“I didn’t hear you,” she said. She bolted up straight and picked up her coffee mug. This was a woman more comfortable with action than repose. She wore a sea-green T-shirt and khaki shorts. No jewelry. No shoes. Her eyes barely peeked out from under her bangs.“I tried the door. I thought I’d give you a progress report.”Progress report? Progress report? Every time I got within the scent of this woman, my circuit board misfired.I sat next to her. Not too close. Not too far. Her umbrella was up, but the sun paid it no attention. It penetrated the fabric as if it were a minor nuisance, nothing more than a piece of facial tissue blocking a blowtorch. I wouldn’t have been the least surprised if the umbrella had burst into flames.
