Patterson ambled to the crest of most southern cliff he could find. He stood and watched as the bitterly cold onshore whitewater streaked across the jagged rocks, until saying to himself,
“One day, one day I will have the old sailboat seaworthy again, and I will become one with the horizon.”
At which point he froze in horror, and his eyes filled with cloudy panic,
“Not today though, as my minestrone is burning on the stove…”
