Riding the Waves

Hopper Gray writhed in his sleeping bag, a Christmas gift from his wife. It shielded him from the crisp air, the cool breeze, the cold sand, the morning dew, far better than he expected. He contemplated whether he should venture to rekindle the fire. His eyes struggled to open. Their lids weighed heavy as though they minded an uncomfortable guest, eager for home and cautious not to wear out a welcome. Hopper stretched, took a deep breath and released it with his usual deep growl that seemed to frighten his companion, Sandman. The zip of the sleeping bag gave a fraction of an inch, and Hopper relented, promising that he’d be back, maybe for a longer sleep.