The beginning.
Two hours past the last glassful of dirt cheap blush wine, my mind is reeling and my stomach can't stay put either. I've ended up here, somehow, due to a cloudy series of events that involve a pseudo celebration (it's somebody's birthday out there, somewhere, so cheers to them), a depressingly empty wallet, and a full tank of gas. But the cool sand helps, the way it fills in the small spaces between my toes.