GENRE: One line of fiction. The rest is truth.
Dedicated to my dear cousin Mary Veazey, who said, “Let’s go on a cruise.”
I have almost forgiven her.
POETIC JUSTICE or, YOU’LL BE FINE
Beautiful . . . waves, sunset . . .
Deck chairs . . .
Two nights at sea, then—shopping in Can Cún.
Uh-uh. Swimming, sunbathing, siestas. Bar open yet?
Soooooo relaxing. Waves rocked me to sleep.
Hurry, let’s claim our chairs.
Chairs. There’s pizza near the pool.
Wearing your patch?
Don’t have one.
Sit here. Sea air helps. ‘Bye.
Find a doctor.
You’ll be fine.
Move, or I’ll ruin your sneakers.
I’m going home . . .
You’ve had a shot of phenergan—you’ll be fine.
. . . if I have to swim.
Phenergan worked! I’m fine. Let’s shop till we drop.
. . . I’m queasy.
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