89 — Dead Reckoning with Azimuth

I don’t suppose you would ever believe that this entire book happens in just two minutes, with a clenching chest, sweats, and hives. But it does. It happens right there. Where? Right there in the two minutes that you absolutely must sit down in the shaded sands of North Avenue beach in Chicago. Don’t collapse. That’s ridiculous. And. No. Don’t go over on the bench. Definitely not that bench. Why do you think no one’s on it? There’s something sticky there. Stop! What are you thinking? Where are you going? No. My God. Not by the water. That’s almost fifty yards from here. It’s much too far to cross the beach when this disoriented. Just sit down. Yes, yes, yes. Come on. At least try to be aware of where you are physically. And. So. Fine. There you go. South of Fullerton. North of the quaint brick bathrooms. You know. Quit worrying. And. I already said this whole thing happens in just two minutes. So. For a book that short, what more do you need for a setting? Time and place. That’s it. That’s the requirement. You’re golden. You know. That’s what you want. That’s what you need. To know. Right? So. Good. You know. You’re not on the pavement of the lakeshore path. You’re not down by the water or in anybody’s way. You’re not on the bench with that two-day-old sticky Popsicle residue. It’s not summer but it’s an abnormally hot day in spring or fall. Maybe even one of those completely freakish December days when it hits eighty degrees in the Midwest. There’s a bit of shade, perhaps an opportunity to collect yourself, maybe a friend to call, maybe a few breaths to take, maybe something pleasant to look at: if it’s not December then a volleyball game, a lifeguard walking back and forth with one of those rocket-shaped flotation devices with the harpoon cording, or, you know, whatever: the sky, the gulls preening on the breakwater, the pebbles in the sand, the bikers on the bike path, the joggers, the Mexican families grilling on the lawn, the black guy people-watching from the bench further down, the white guy trudging along getting back in shape after a second heart attack, the Asian woman training for another triathlon, and the parents with strollers. It’s all there. Whatever you want to look at to help just calm the fuck down and stop your mind from racing.