HEART

Kevin admires his reflection in the bathroom mirror -- doesn't recognize how drastically he's changed from 45 minutes ago. He's thin again, same weight he was in college. Damn I look good. I'm in perfect shape. Love me some me! Razor-sharp perfection. Clean, crisp shirt and tie, heavy starch, just how he likes it. My asian dry-creeners ree-ree can press.

Driving in his new Bentley now, 200-miles per hour, feels his heart racing; tight cornering; hears his heart-beat pounding in his eardrums; heading to the beach at full speed. Brochure said 200 miles-per-hour was possible; they didn't lie. Not a single car on the road, nor a single person on the street -- Strange.

Not a single car in the parking lot, nor a single sunbather on the boardwalk, in the restaurants or gift-shops. Even Paragon-Park is empty -- I thought they tore the park down in the 80s? Haven't seen the roller coaster in decades. Maybe I dreamed Paragon was torn down? It's there.

A warm day; it's so warm, feels like August, can't be May. Could of sworn it was May. Where are all the people? Where are the beautiful women in bikinis? Why is no-one at the beach on such a warm day?