C78 TIDES OF CHANGE.

Brandon perched on a sun-bleached driftwood bench, his fingers tracing the weathered grooves as if they held the answers he sought. No, they didn't. But the environment was relaxing.

A nearby jazz quartet coaxed melancholy notes from their instruments, the music twining with the cry of seagulls. He loved the sound.

"You really screwed up this time, didn't you?" he muttered to himself