One January Morning, Part 2

Morgan’s tale—this Morgan’s tale—began on a sun-soaked beach on a January morning. Our hero called home a narrow stretch of coastline in a state made of granite, his neighbors a mix of red-blooded American gun enthusiasts whose aim was to live free or die (taking as many enemies with them as they could, of course) and of blue-blooded do-gooder liberals who’d been priced out of the God-forsaken commonwealth to the south. Morgan, he was a man in the middle. In the middle of so many things. And, on this day, he was in the middle of the most profound decision of his life. On the one hand, there was an Elizabeth. On the other, there was a Jennifer. And, on this day, in between these two lovely young ladies—literally between them, with one on each arm—there was Morgan, his bare feet wiggling in the cold sand as he and the women he held dear stared out across the ocean, the waves of uncertainty lapping ever nearer to their shores of discontent.

To be continued…


This month, January 2015, I’m telling a story one paragraph per day, inspired by cards from the Writer Emergency Pack. To read the next paragraph a day early, support me on Patreon.