Back Dock
I stood at the back dock of the resort where I worked with a cigarette between my lips wondering why I’d forgotten to ask for matches from the gas station clerk. This older man with a scruffy unshaven look to him was unloading kegs of beer from the back of his truck, alone. “Can I help you at all?” My endlessly kind nature always pulled me toward people regardless of their size. He was large and clearly able, but I hated to simply stand and watch him work. I had just clocked out for the night...