Noah stared at the sky and the occasional somber raindrops that jumped up the windshield. He unconsciously caught his bottom lip in his mouth while staring at the churning grey clouds, dazzled by their endless sweep. His own flesh tasted salty in his mouth and the observation made him smile. Noah delighted in the New England weather and the film of residue the ocean had left on his skin. He was there for the native experience, salt and rain and all.
The weather stained marinas to the right reached for the sea like the fingers on little hands. Each flashed by in an instant, only to be replaced by more of the same. The iron sea twisted at their edge, gnashing its white, frothy teeth. Noah tried to absorb it all.
He was out with a Luke, a friend from college. They’d graduated twelve years ago, but to them it felt like yesterday.
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