One morning in the early grey of the dawn we stood out to sea to troll for mackerel.
Their instruments were various in their kind, Some for the bow, and some for breathing wind.
Can each of these treatyless allies brook equality or must there be a clash for the purpose of determining which shall yield supremacy to the other?
He wasn’t looking up but was instead staring straight ahead at the school principal, his legs crossed, a Rolex-watched wrist draped languidly over one knee in an almost feminine pose.
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