Shell stood on her porch, cursing the rain between sips of coffee. I've got friends in Texas who are swimming right now, she thought. The damp cold was slowly flooding her bones. She noticed a twinge of pain in her lower back as she shifted her weight. The porch board underneath her left foot creaked. The summer, though short, had been glorious and was now gone. A hot, fat and salty tear drop plopped it's way into Shell's mug, caused a ripple. Five minutes later, she lounged in a beach chair that she'd defiantly placed in the middle of the living room before cranking the heat and popping in a DVD of Weekend at Bernie's.