Beach

Beach

The sand was cold and grainy between her toes. The waves that washed up the beach did not reach her yet, but the tide was coming in. The water had come steadily closer since her arrival.
   Grey sky, white crowns on dark water. The outlines of ships in the distance, awaiting their turn in port. Seagull cries carried on the same wind that whipped sand in her face.    Shoes dangled from her gloved fingers.
   The brine was finding its way up her legs, feet submerged in cold sand. Her knees were starting to ache, fierce flashes of pain shot up her calves, reaching for her thighs and hips.
   She did not move.
   Not too far down the beach, gulls were fighting over seashells. A crow watched from a tide-marker, ready to make off with the spoils.
   A dog put it’s cold nose under her jacket, before running off again. Its owner passed out of sight, somewhere near the dunes.
   She was being worn down by the constant sound of waves crashing onto the shore. Like a rock being crushed over eons, until nothing but sand remained.
   The dog returned, wagging its tail, happily splashing through the water, tongue hanging from its jaw. It barked once, before dashing away.
   The clouds thinned. A silver disc appeared in the sky.
   The first wave lapped at her ankles. Her jeans soaked up the water to mid-calf.
   The second wave to touch her followed soon after.
   She stepped away before a third could reach her. Her knees protested the movement as much as they’d protested the long absence of movement.
   There was no sensation left in her feet, making her stumble awkwardly as she made her way over loose sand.
   The sound of polyester brushing over polyester was unbelievably loud in her ears.    The needle-fine points of her hair pricked her face as the wind toyed with the salt encrusted strands.
   Her heart, her head, and stomach were empty.
   A clean slate, ready to be chalked upon again.

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