Apparently the vault of human beasts opened and tides of smoke and debris started to slather innocent victims. The flood of armed men creeped down the salty crusted edges of the shore. One of the soldiers tilted to the side picking up an old broken shark jaw. He thought it was a weapon, shining from a silver glint in the moonlight. I stopped my needles, faulted a stitch on the red hat I was knitting listening to helpless voices, my defiant knitting act resumed.
***
The Bag Lady 