[ the sand isn't all that wet, despite the way it looks. they're on the north pacific, somewhere off the coast of oregon. it's mostly lighthouses all worn down from time and sea salt and shit weather, peppered with worn out homes for coupon-clipping retirees with dogs and the occasional gas-station-with-attached-grocery. chuck has a bag of cheese balls from one of them that's the size of his leg. he's been keeping it stashed in what he's claimed as his pantry in the back of the camper.
max sits on the edge of the faded out faux-tile and looks up at him. mouth open. breathing heavily.
in the distance he can make out what must be the back of raleigh becket's head, because he and the petite slip of ink that moves at his side match each other's paces. that and he can hear yancy and tendo talking about some girl he hasn't caught the name of yet. chuck looks at his bare feet, jeans rolled up to bunch around his calves. it's more like tiny rocks than real sand, but it's soft enough that he doesn't much bother.
the sky is gray. he's heard that the way it normally is up here. someone down the length of the beach has a kite in the air, and he can make out only traces of color- orange and red. max huffs again and chuck rolls his eyes at the same moment he takes a step back. clicks his tongue to his teeth by way of encouragement and doesn't watch as the dog half hops, half waddles his way out of the camper.
least somebody's excited about nowhere oregon, because chuck sure isn't. ]
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idefk???
max sits on the edge of the faded out faux-tile and looks up at him. mouth open. breathing heavily.
in the distance he can make out what must be the back of raleigh becket's head, because he and the petite slip of ink that moves at his side match each other's paces. that and he can hear yancy and tendo talking about some girl he hasn't caught the name of yet. chuck looks at his bare feet, jeans rolled up to bunch around his calves. it's more like tiny rocks than real sand, but it's soft enough that he doesn't much bother.
the sky is gray. he's heard that the way it normally is up here. someone down the length of the beach has a kite in the air, and he can make out only traces of color- orange and red. max huffs again and chuck rolls his eyes at the same moment he takes a step back. clicks his tongue to his teeth by way of encouragement and doesn't watch as the dog half hops, half waddles his way out of the camper.
least somebody's excited about nowhere oregon, because chuck sure isn't. ]