Excerpt From An Unpublished Essay: Lonely in Kino or The Long Stretch of Day. A Fisherman's Bar

At the shore where the beach makes a shallow bay, down by where the fishermen drag their boats onto the sand, is a large metal shed with no windows where you can buy one kind of beer.  A woman with dark ringed eyes wearing a little girl’s tank top and shorts, leans on the doorway with one leg wrapped around the other.  From the dark interior floats the sounds of a TV laugh track and a child crying.  Several fisherman hang around, sitting on the overturned belly of a boat, standing in the shade of the bar, waiting for nothing, hoping for something, in the golden light of falling afternoon, where everything smells like gasoline and rotting fish and salt water.

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