It was all a compromise. Make a little money in the summer and even less in the winter, but at least she was at the beach.
Life was supposed to be about quality not quantity, wasn’t it? And what better quality of life could there be than living at the beach? Despite all the crap she had to put up with at her job during tourist season, she wouldn’t complain, shouldn’t complain; at least life was better than it had been with her ex, Jim.
Lazy, beer-swilling Jim. After eighteen years, it had been easy to leave him, easy to leave Florida where she had lived her entire life.
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