Watching

The evening sun cast a shadow over his form. Beside him were his possessions: a well-worn jacket, tattered guitar case, and the bottle. His bed, the asphalt, was unforgiving. His blonde hair, visible only as his body arched upward in an uncontrollable dry heave, seemed strangely young against his weathered face. Wasted.

Her body was turned toward the ocean view but her eyes weren’t taking it in. Her long woolen coat provided ample protection against the cool breeze. Her boots, fashionable yet practical, complemented her outfit. Her steps were slow and without purpose. She looked yet again at the screen on her flip phone. Her glance, as the ones before, was not long enough to read any incoming message. Slowly she closed it and tucked it in her coat pocket. Disappointed.

The pink of her hair had the desired affect and caught my attention. She hollered a greeting to her friends in the apartment above the boardwalk, bounded up the steps and moments later emerged on the patio. During the brief pause in the apartment, her attire was altered with the addition of a set of long silver metal fringes flaring out across her back like butterfly wings. Speakers blared the music of a distant era, calling out to be noticed. Searching.

A squeal of delight overpowered the sound of the pounding surf. The youngster dashed away from the incoming wave and toward the safety of her mother further up on the sand. The beach toys lay strewn about, temporarily forgotten, as the game of cat and mouse continued at the water’s edge. Care-free.

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1 Comment

  1. Gorgeous and evocative – love it!

    Reply

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