For Rob, this special day felt like... like... a vacation, which, of course, it was. It is one thing, however, to be on vacation and quite another to feel like one is on vacation. Rob felt it. It was a rare and glorious day. The sun was warm, and the air was crisp with the smell of salt. The sky was a sparkling Pacific blue to die for. Surfboarders dotted the horizon. Dozens of vacationers waded in the tide pools and shallows inspecting behind every rock, nook, and cranny for starfish or mussels, for sea crabs and for treasures, for dreams and for wishes. Dory boat trailers stood silent and abandoned, while their boats and crews could be seen on the horizon plying the ocean depths for cod, and salmon, and for dreams, and for wishes. It was a Cape Cod Day in Oregon. It would remain so... for about ten minutes. His vacation ended abruptly. Rob Smith spied his uncle's body in the surf below. He jumped off the high cliff his arms all akimbo. The wind ripped the sunglasses from his face. He tried to scream, but the wind tore his scream away and threw it up with his sunglasses. Then he hit the water.