“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No, no reason.”
“I didn’t eat breakfast, and I’m high at the beach.”
“No judgement.”
“Call me Queequeg.”
“But instead of rare beefsteaks, it’s the common Lays potato.”
Ethan continued to chow down on the chips. Truckloads of sand had been getting in the bag left open while they were in the surf (from the wind whipping—westerlies, prevailing).