Mary-Kate laughed, and James smiled as he watched her bring a charging cable over to a shelf of matching products. Her laugh was somewhat musical, and it paired nicely with whatever Miles Davis song was playing. As Mary-Kate returned from the shelf, James pretended to be focused on his clipboard as he raced to think of something clever to say.
Then I noticed the moon. Larger than usual, it was resting at a peculiar angle, right on the horizon and donning a bright orange hue. It seemed to be nearing its fullest state, a waxing gibbous four or five days away from its climax. Why the strange angle though? And why the orange hue?
Waves lapped at the side of the skipjack as the captain maintained his course straight ahead until the lighthouse was the size of a penny in the skipjack’s peripheral. The families became farther and fewer as they drew nearer the fishing pier, but one sight drew Aaron’s eye to the base. About ten to fifteen blue containers were lined up some fifty feet back from the coastline. A group of men were standing behind them. As they got closer, Aaron could see that the men were dumping fishnets into the containers, half of which seemed to be already overflowing.
Ms. Julie smiled slightly as she wrapped the box in packaging paper, but the man couldn’t help but notice the smile had deviated from the playful one he knew. It was a sadder smile, a smile that remembered a time when glass butterflies were more luxurious than golden trinkets. The man paid for the necklace and made his way towards the front door.