It's the night at a restaurant called the Tides Wharf in Bodega Bay.
There have been oysters, crab, smoked salmon, prawns, steamed clams, and
delicious bread. There has been white wine. One glass. There has been exemplary
service. A nice dinner to remember.
On the way back to the car my husband and I paused and watched the
splendor of the sunset. The last light faded and drifted across the water - the
low and quite in the coming darkness. I shivered once in the distance I heard a
lonely cry of a bird. It seems like the world of the sleepless ghosts of Hitchcock's
Birds is still there.
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