Sea Lion Shores the preacher in a t-shirt told me i could be a leader

Half a year had passed since the fire. Or thereabouts, he wasn't counting the days.

He remembered everything that had happened after the fact much too clearly. Mainly the last conversation with his mother where she'd volleyed off so many cruel salvos in a row, like she'd lined them up just for him on the big day of his dispersal. Don't look at me like that. It's so goddamned sad - and all, it still made his chest hurt to think about it, it hurt like heartburn after a too-big meal. I wish it'd been you instead of him. Gee, ma, I could've gone my entire life without knowing that.

He paced the length of the beach, stewing. Just beyond him, the world's edge was a lovely shade of blue, and the sun shone like it never had all season, but Gav was ever the ungrateful tourist.

A shout caught his ear, muffled enough for him to chalk it up to an echo, or hallucination - but a glance down the shore confirmed he wasn't alone.

Hey, kid, he called out, keeping his distance. The last thing he wanted was a pair of angry parents on his tail. You lost?