Sit on the dock before sunrise. Watch Peter dump lobster traps off the stern of his boat. Before the sky brightens (before he can see you), sneak back up to the hotel to start your shift in the kitchen.

I despise my barber.

I sit down in his old style chair and I tell him what I want done to me. He runs his hands through what he’ll be dealing with, frowns casually in acknowledgement of my wishes, and goes about his work. Then I sit there, staring at myself in the mirror, for the next half an hour.

The sun was proud that day, the sort of sun that you can feel stroking your face and prickling your back. They walked onwards, further along the same road they had driven down the previous night, flanked by trees that funneled them down the road and shielded them from view.

She surveyed the room. There were bright yellow squares where photographs hung, hiding the paint from years of sunlight. She spotted the loose floorboard where an old cedar box used to hide, holding the most secretive possessions.