Short Story #08: Whales

On the first morning we stepped outside our bungalow and took a seat at the two wooden chairs that faced out to the water. I poured us each a cup of the fresh coffee from the pot on the small glass-topped table between us. Breakfast wasn’t due to be served until seven thirty but we had arisen earlier partly because the jet lag had left us wide awake at six but mostly because we’d been told we’d have more luck seeing whales at this hour.

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