Of Breaking Waves

Paragraph 2

Where was I? I was cold as all get-out. At least my padded coat hadn’t gotten soaked. I forced myself to open my eyes. It was dark, the dark of a darkling twilight under slate-grey clouds. Below me was rough-finished lumber. No, I was lying on the plastic composite Pickering’s world uses for decks and porches

About George Phillies

science fiction author -- researcher in polymer dynamics -- collector of board wargames -- President, National Fantasy Fan Federation
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