I won't lie to you. The Caddy sank like lead, heavy with all my father's hopes and dreams. Disappearing into that mighty ocean. Soon there wasn't any sign that it had existed at all.
It resurfaced on the horizon, a vague Cadillac shape or a whale—in my memory it was both. It drifted westward until it was only a dot, then nothing.
Seagulls cried out, or was it the sound of Dad pressing the horn?
Goodbye, Dad. Goodbye.
I watched for minutes, hours, days, then turned away. To find a road. To walk.
About the Author
Stephen Shea is the pseudonym of an almost-semi-famous genre author who has decided to experiment with several other genres. He may live right next door to you.
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