"Carla Jean?"

I come down to the beach sometimes for no real reason. It's not far from work. I guess it's kind of comforting, a reminder of the old days back on the island. There isn't too much there I miss, but when I was there, it was good. Now, though, just about the last piece of the puzzle comes walking up, and I don't know what to think.

I just stare at her, slack-jawed, bewildered, not sure if she's in my head or not.