Alethia stared out at the harbor while Macallan paid the 34 euro for the two tickets to Delos on the 5:00 p.m. ferry. He smiled at his wife even though she was looking the other way. The Macallans journeyed to Greece every other year to visit Aletheia’s grandparents and assorted relatives, distant and otherwise. After a week of dinners, dancing, and drinking they were relieved to have a couple of days to themselves on an island, and they especially loved Mykonos because of its proximity to Delos and its famed ruins.
“Two tickets to…,” he said, handing the tickets to Aletheia, stopping mid-thought.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing. I thought I saw someone I know just now.” He pointed at the blond woman and the tall man strolling away from them toward the dock.
“Well, I don’t know who she is,” Aletheia said. “But the man is Yiannis Kardas.”
“Kardas?” he said. “Why do I know that name?”
Deficio Scriptor 
‘why’ indeed
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I’m not at all pleased with these recent developments, however, there’s no turning back. At this point I should tell you about Sombrero Fallout, one of Richard Brautigan’s later books and certainly not his best by any extent. In it, the protagonist is a writer who starts a story about a sombrero falling out of the sky. He reads his page, decides it’s utter garbage and crumples it up and tosses it away. However, the story has taken life and continues on its own in the garbage. Don’t bother with it, however, do read Trout Fishing in America and Revenge of the Lawn. Don’t Kindle them and don’t buy one of those editions where they stick three Brautigan books into one pressing. Get your hands on a used paperback. If you can’t, let me know and I’ll get a copy to you. If you haven’t read these, they’re very much of a time in this country, and they are extraordinary.
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