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   And with that he was gone, back over the side, lost to view in seconds, the sounds of his progress fading until all I could hear was the surf below.
   I looked down, where I had squeezed all the spicy fillings for my sandwich into a wet mess in my lap.

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   When your work hours are seven to seven it’s hard to find time to get away from the job. I found buying a sandwich, a soda and sitting at the view point to watch the sun sink into the sea a relaxing way to end the day.
   Not any more. He just ruined it. Unless the top is up and the doors are locked. Maybe a pit bull in the back seat.