By Lee Patton
Frank rowed toward the dock his father used, tucked into a wooded river bend behind the town harbor. It was way past six, but the dock was deserted. Where was his dad?
The seagulls kept acting strange. A whole flock had just followed his rowboat against the incoming tide, wailing. When he passed the mooring basin’s log posts, every single gull landed atop each one, like a formation, going dead quiet.