"You always think that," said Joan. "They're watching it, aren't they?"
Out in the harbor, the wall of water hovered, quivering. It was taller than the buildings, now, poised in the last few seconds before it crashed down. The tip was curled over, frothing white. Seagulls floated serenely on the curved top. Fishing boats dotted the water in the shadow of the wave.
"It has to come in sometime."
"They'd know if it was dangerous." Joan patted the couch. "C'mon. The show's starting."
Outside, the sun glinted on the surface of the water.