The soft calls of the quetzals wake you. You’re finally free. The idea of ragebaiting and news of the American Election Cycle is nowhere to be found.

The warm Caribbean sun shines on your shell, maybe a bit too warmly. Time for a dip in the ocean and maybe a light snack.

We had one of those near Buffalo NY.

It was totally unrelated to litter, but…

What behaviour was this colleague exhibiting that made you forget to never put anything unofficial in writing?