I know, she continued, I'll take my library lent copy of The Best American Nonrequired Reading, a gorilla-sized bottle of water, and a striped picnic blanket and escape these feelings of guilt over wasting a day of my life by my own hand.
Then she jumped in the car, drove 26.something miles north and landed at a spot made of forgiveness. Where the birds forgave the rocks and the rocks forgave the sea and the sea forgave the sand and all that was left was a beach made for reflection.
All in a Sunday's work.
