An excerpt from the novel by Spencer Fleury
Even with that overpriced wetsuit, I was freezing. The Gulf of Mexico was an ice bath. The cold air scratched my lungs. I was gulping down mouthfuls of it as I dragged that paddle through seawater that felt as thick as treacle, trying to force that kayak shoreward. But I was flailing already, and any forward progress I made was through sheer stubbornness alone. I kept trying to gain the entire five miles with each stroke, to put this entire ordeal behind me with a single thrust. But after maybe ten minutes or so, my arms were overstretched elastic, flaccid and spent. Continue reading
Hawaii Pacific Review 