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Lake Merwin, WA

April 22nd, 2021

It was funny to think that this was where it might end. It wasn’t funny strange or funny ironic, and it wasn’t even funny sad, it was just funny. In fact it was enough to pull a chuckle out of him at that moment as he could imagine right now there was a caravan of people making their way along the winding, twisting roads that would lead down to the sun-dappled waterfront at the bottom of the hill. He could imagine the parking lot filling up with cars, each one filled with people just waiting to take their shot and perhaps be the one to end him finally.

He couldn’t blame them, and he wouldn’t when the moment finally came. He was done running at this point, he’d been doing it long enough that it had become a habit. But he’d been a smoker at one time and he’d quit that habit too. This time he was going to sit on his boat and just wait for whoever got to him first. He had his bets on it being the eldest of his kids, the first one he’d ran out on long, long ago when he’d still been a teenager in the prime of his life.

During his many years he’d made every mistake a man could make while still keeping his life and his freedom. He’d done whatever he’d needed to in order to stay out of jail and on the run. Some of it he wasn’t too proud of, but he didn’t regret any of it since he’d been free to live his life on his own terms for a long time now and it had afforded him the kind of riches and opportunities to stay as anonymous as he wanted and to live a life of luxury while leaving a wake of broken and shattered hearts and lives behind him.

None of it had mattered, not the women, the babies he’d left them with, nor even the money or reputation he’d left behind. In the 60’s he’d been a kid, but still smart enough to not allow a woman to trap him by claiming that he needed to “man up” and do his duties as a father. Nope, he’d skipped out and joined the US Navy not long after learning she was pregnant. He’d lied about his age and paid the nearest forger he could find to cook him up some documents and get him onto the first ship he could find.

It had taken some doing, but eventually all the stand at attention and get in line garbage had paid off and he’d set sail. That had been the first time he’d skipped out on a woman, but it certainly hadn’t been the last. There had been many ports of call between that first woman and the last. And at each one he’d done plenty that would have earned him a one-way ticket to the big burn.

(to be continued)

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