John Black stared stonily out at the flickering lights. A few boats maneuvered in the distance, and their muted engines and an occasional foghorn dented the otherwise silent night. In late September, he still didn’t need a jacket to keep out the chill at 9 pm. So, only blue shirt sleeves that matched his azure …
What I had with John was a thunderstorm. It was full of lightening and wind and drama and passion.
The Jarlena Journal 