The work can wait. The tide is high. And the scat has just begun.
The harbor was a long silver bruise beneath the noon sun, boats bobbing like drowsy thoughts. High tide had the little inlet running full; the old pier—warped boards and rusting nails—gleamed with a wet, dark edge. Today felt like the kind of summer day that presses gently on your chest: hot but forgiving, the air tasting faintly of salt and old rope. hightide scat lunch break hot
Replace heavy sandwiches and greasy chips with foods that actively hydrate: The work can wait