What beach was this, he wasn't certain. Rock and sand, a harbor town, and everywhere the sort of pottery he'd combed for as a boy in the 1940s. Let his brothers fill their pockets with sticks and shells, ordinary sea glass: he knew how to look for the curved ridge on the underside of a slice of saucer. Flip it over and find the blue flowers of Holland or China, a century ago or more. All his outgrown fixations had returned to him now that he was old.