dreaming of the sea

When I last saw Joe, he had been dreaming of the sea. When I saw Jon, that is what he said. He was short, acerbic even, as though he'd rehearsed his answer. When I asked how he was, Jon's eyes darted over my face in a pizzicato stare. He said 'he's been dreaming about the sea.' He pulled the brown paper bag close to his chest and walked out of the store.

Where the dreams were taking Joe, I did not ask, because sometimes dreaming isn't as easy as it sounds.