Couldn't sleep that night. Murphy beside my pillow purring loudly.
Sticking close to me these days.
Memories mingled with dreams. Sid. All those years we spent weekends
together. Never much more. Why?
Friday night. Saturday night. Usually his house in Pacific Heights
Sunday brunch out.
Sitting on the deck at Sam's Anchor Cafe in Tiburon. Drinking
mimosas in the warm sun while boats pulled up at the dock.
Smell of the ocean. Seagulls hovering. Sid talking about installing shows,
about looking at slides. Artists always seeking shows. So many rejected.
He hated that part of the business.