San Diego is one of the most beautiful cities in the world, with so much to see and do packed within its borders that a vacation could last for months. However, I wasn't on vacation, I was on a business trip, and right now I hated San Diego with a barely controlled passion. None of this had anything to do with business, and I knew it. The meetings had gone better than I dared dream; I was a hero to my boss and a savior to the troops...and a fading memory to my lover. I was focused on this last one as I stared out the window of my hotel room at the city lights, imagining all sorts of people who hadn't just been dumped partying their asses off. The fact that my lover had been a philandering shit I was glad to be rid of had momentarily slipped my mind. I was on my third or fourth drink.

Than, almost magically, I was walking through the sand at the edge of Mission Bay, staring out at the inky water, then up at the black velvet, rhinestone studded sky. I could hear something particularly insistent and offensive pounding out of the speakers in the lounge. The moving shapes created brittle laughter as they partied their vacant little minds out. I walked down the short pier, muttering something to myself about the fabled long walk. The pretty boat was at the end. The pretty man was doing something to the engine.
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