Ted Lawrence was lying on the deck of his sailboat, sprawled across a lounge chair like a damp rag and soaking in the light and gentle breeze of the uncharacteristically mild August morning. The waters of Lake Superior lapped against the hull of his ship and its twinkling plain stretched on past the horizon in every direction. His ship wasn’t much to look at, with its splotched paint and patchwork sail, and he had to empty every last cent from his savings to afford even that, but the peace of the open waves was worth any price.
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