The Strand painter
by Janice Nigro
Francesca hoisted her laundry bag onto her back, slipped into her flip-flops and crossed the street to stroll along the beach on her way to 2nd Street. She paused before stepping into the mélange of life making up the traffic on The Strand. The team of French bulldogs pulling a skateboarder, the bark of a sea lion, the smell of weed.
Oh, and the man she dubbed The Painter.
Tall and sun-kissed, dark wavy hair pulled back in a headband, a Tahitian-
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