it’s far beyond a star (it’s near beyond the moon)

early on sunday morning, buck drives up the coast a-ways to this secluded beach he likes, where he can rent a board and have a coffee afterward and browse a hidden gem of a used bookstore. they’re barely open when he gets there, but lee, the old man who owns the shop knows him, and he’s there shooting the shit with his friend al like always, so it’s no problem for buck to get a board and then into his wetsuit before paddling out.

the sun’s barely up when he hits the beach, and the waves aren’t turbulent—they’re never turbulent here—but they are a bit more moody and grey than usual. it’s november. the earth itself knows it’s november. the ocean knows it’s november, and it seems like she knows how much this month has taken from buck already.