Joseph R. Goodall's Blog, page 5

Damned Virus

Seagulls arced across the sky like tiny kites restrained on invisible strings. With haggard steps, a man with dark glasses and a red-tipped walking stick ambled along the sand below the circling birds. Up the slope, Tonia surveyed the nearly-empty coastline from her beach towel. Her roommates, Lexy and Paris, remained in her peripheral vision, but her gaze tracked the unknown walker’s each laborious step. His obscured face was turned down to his feet, and his shoulders sagged in a despondent sl...