<em>Well Shit</em><br/><br/>Craig watched the spirit fade away, leaving him standing there rather alone. He looked about across the early morning breaks and shrugged. Might as well get this over with, and maybe catch a little water time. He crawled into his vehicle, grabbing a body glove, his was black with gray markings, this one going from throat to knees and then down to mid arm. Hoping into the back of the SUV so as not to get a citation for public indecency he shucked off his cargo shorts  and pulled the neoprene suit over his lower torso. getting out of the SUV he pulled on a pair of rock sandals and his secured his gear inside the locked vehicle, a simple key on a chain around his neck would let him in later. He grabbed the board from the rack atop.<br/><br/><em>Nothing ventured, nothing gained I guess.</em><br/><br/>Craig started down the beach, body glove half on, board under on arm. He looked like a natural, hell, he was. He had been surfing the Newport and VA swells, small as they were, ever since he was allowed in the water. His body seemed to grow more defined as he walked, whipcord over bone, defined muscle of lean athlete, not the blocky form of a true lifter. He smiled and talked to himself for a bit. What the worst that could happen? She could eat his board? Onward he walked.