In Need of Rescue

Fog blurred the edges of the breakwater, so I could hear, but not yet see, the ocean. The sidewalk gave way to a dirt path, bordered by native California shrubs, their colors dulled by the half-light before dawn. I’d hoped to watch the sun rise from my favorite spot on the shoreline, beneath the crumbling sandstone cliff that gave Dana Point its name, but the horizon was uniformly gray.   

The only other person awake this early was a man with two dogs on leashes, pushing a baby stroller. We exchanged nods and I settled on the lone bench facing the…

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