He went to the beach. He was embarrassed by the shapelessness of his being. It was with mixed emotions that he greeted the oncoming tsunami.

He takes one step and remembers his family. The smell of his mother’s cookies. He takes two, and sighs. He takes a third, and feels gravity.

I reached for the liquor cabinet. I don’t drink, she said. What would Han Solo do? I asked. And she grimaced and said, Maybe just this once.