I joked with her about the loneliness of the lobby she oversaw. Every time I called in or spoke to her, I would pretend to be eagerly interested in he... lobby and ask, “So, is anybody in the lobby?” She’d gotten used to my humorous questions and give creative replies like “Just a gang of gypsies trying to get change for a twenty.” Or, “A midget, I think, but I can’t see over the counter.” Or on days when she was really busy and harried, she’d just say, “No. No one. Just me.” Her voice sounding. They would come back to the cabin, the skiff full of their catch, so tired that it hurt. Yet in the morning they rushed back, breathless in anticipation of what they would find waiting.Life and death permeated the place. Nothing ever seemed to be still. The wind was constant and relentless, pushing, teasing, and stroking her skin. The sea surged and fought with them, lifting and tossing the small skiff, its constant motion echoing and enhancing the tides that pulsed within her. The scent of the. More

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