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How many were left in mine?

The Last Day of February

I wondered how it had come to this.

No. That wasn’t right.

I knew exactly how it had come to this.

Lightning shattered the sky and raked the black surface of the ocean. The rain spilling out from above hit my face and body like a shower as I stood on my patio, soaking me and the duffel bag slung over my shoulder. The water stung the cut above my eye and grew the bloody stain on my shirt.

I knew that I wouldn’t ever stand on this patio again, stare at this view again, live in this home again.

Thunder rolled off the Pacific like it was coming through a megaphone, rattling the windows and doors of all the homes on the boardwalk. The rain picked up velocity, splashing violently into the puddles on the ground.

I wiped the water from my eyes and took another look, making sure that all of it—my home, the view, this world I had created for myself—would never leave my memory.

I knew that it wouldn’t, just as I knew that the last month would never leave me either.

Things like that don’t leave you. They inhabit you. Forever.

I turned to the glass door and squinted through the reflected bands of rain. My gun lay on the kitchen table. Two surfboards stood in the corner. Most everything I owned was still inside. I didn’t know what would happen to those things. And I didn’t care.

The lightning cracked again behind me. A starter’s pistol, telling me it was time to go.

I stepped off the patio and headed for the car, leaving the remains of my life behind.

Published in Electronic Format by

TYRUS BOOKS

an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

4700 East Galbraith Road

Cincinnati, Ohio 45236

www.tyrusbooks.com

Copyright © 2011 by Jeff Shelby

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or

mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without

permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction.

Any similarities to people or places, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

eISBN 10: 1-4405-3267-2

eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-3267-2

This work has been published in print format under the following ISBNs:

1-93556-239-8 (Hardcover)

1-93556-254-1 (Paperback)