Tony wasn’t hun­gry but he had to eat and I thought some chick­en ten­ders and fries would do him good. The din­er was most­ly emp­ty and we sat in a booth against the large win­dows that over­looked the qui­et street. I let Tony sleep in and qui­et­ly got ready. The water was cold­er than I thought it would be and Tony recoiled when he felt it and hung on tighter. As we went deep­er, the water ris­ing above my waist, over Tony’s waist, the waves became more and more pow­er­ful.