Rough Draft

“People just have to throw their trash in the water, don’t they?”  Tom spoke the words aloud, though he was paddling solo out from his favorite Mendocino beach.  He used a paddle-blade to flick a paper cup half-floating atop a tangle of kelp up and into his kayak.  Tom was suited up in neoprene, geared up with mask and fins and other free diving gear, but not psyched up for the planned photographic hunt for trophy abalone that he had planned.  His mood was just off a bit, and he wasn’t sure if sharky vibes or making-the-monthly-nut worries were to blame.  Being out on the water helped, though the lack of absolute grace kept him tethered in ways he hated.