Sometimes during the storm you get a preview of what will happen. When the rain comes down, thanks to the righteousness of gravity, it feeds the spring so the groundwater seeps up. No matter which way you look, the water’s gonna getcha. From sideways, the surf slams up against the cliff wall, knocks loose another boulder, and we wonder how much longer this old field has. In the summer, the springs dry sharp to a crisp, and one match could send the tinder up in seconds. But who cares about that now? Because right now, we are out here while the water’s rising.

The flesh wall sits out there, exactly on the edge. Will be one of the first things to go over. It’s been aerosoled in advance. Flesh. Someday, probably when the water’s all the way up, a commodity. Dog, pony, and people. Anyone with skin.

I can’t prove anything. I’ve never been good at separating fact from fiction. But since the day the flesh wall made it’s announcement, we do take heed. Practice running fast. Keep our wits about us. Make sure we notice exactly what’s going on around us.

Everything’s more noticable on a rainy day. The wind and sea are just off the cliff edge from this spot. They go together and blow so loud that you cover your ears and it doesn’t help. The sound’s moves straight to your brain. You are exactly at the spot where the world ends. Step off the edge, and that’s it. Only a sea that goes on forever. Or at least to Hawaii. Whichever comes first.