I stood there, thinking about not going.

The ocean had taken a turn, with winter-like temperatures and a stiff NW wind already chopping the water into chunks. This summer has been strange here, with not much…summer.

“You should go.”

I looked over my shoulder to my left and saw a barefoot guy holding a fishing rod.

“I almost just died, you know. Spent 30 days at Mercy Hospital.” He took a step closer. “They didn’t think I was going to make it. Cancer. You should go.”

I shifted my gaze back to the water, fighting to find the right response through my morning brain fog. Hoping a nod would work now, I turned toward him, but he was already clamoring over the reef outcropping that only shows on lower tides.

I went.