A Day at the Beach
 The door swung open with a hiss as the bus jerked to a stop nearly knocking Chang down.  He sheepishly grinned at the only other passenger, a blue haired lady carrying a net shopping bag full of produce.
The bright sun blinded his eyes for a split second and he could not see the ocean, the goal of his hour long ride from the restaurant.  It came into view simultaneously with the smell of salt water invading his nose.  Seventeen, just today, and never having seen an ocean! His body ached with excitement. New day, new country, new life rang in Cantonese in his ears as he passed through the parking lot with its shiny new convertibles side by side with the four by fours with surf boards being unloaded by people he had only seen in American movies back home.
Home seemed ages ago, not just three months, as he maneuvered passed the man renting red and blue beach umbrellas and searched for a spot to put his white linen towel down.
He wanted to get close to the breaking waves, but it seemed that all of those spaces had been taken.  Next time, he wished, he would ask for a full day off from cutting vegetables so that he could arrive in time to sit where the water just misses lapping the towel.