The one-eyed tern popped about the sand next to the table on the beach. He didn't venture too far into the shade under the umbrella. He kept his good eye flicking between me and the fallen potato chip near my foot. Soon a swatch of twig-like footprints covered that little plot of the beach, ending about 10 inches from the chip. He'd get close and then leap back, cocking his eye up at me, trying to determine if I was trying to trap him. I didn't know the universal sign for 'its your chip now, have at it' and tried to convey my lack of interest in the chip, but he wasn't having any of it. I figured losing an eye made him somewhat untrusting. We sat in stalemate until a little girl wearing water wings ran by, flapping, sending the one-eyed tern elsewhere. I saw him land near where the small waves lapped the sand. I reached down and picked up the fallen potato chip and lightly tossed it over to one of the twig-like footprints and then sipped my beer. A few moments later my cycloptic friend returned, tracing the umbrella's shadow before noticing the closer proximity of the fallen chip. Two short hops and he devoured it, then tilted his good eye up towards me with a look that seemed to say 'is that it?'.

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