258 — Dad’s

Tonight, on the menu at the restaurant to which Karen and I go once a month, the first course is mussels served in a lemon butter sauce.  I am not enthusiastic.  It never seemed to me that just because something could be eaten that it should be eaten:  for me, mussels fall into that shouldn’t-be-eaten …

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Day 255

We come up in a dingy alley across the channel, sweating bullets with aching calves. Sig checks his comp and nods, leaning against the grimy wall while catching his breath. “Should be just around the corner. Dyl?” I nod and take a deep breath, cracking my neck and loosening up in case of a fight. …

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