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crab dinner.
THE MARSH.
Willow adored the marsh. It was the only location in Kildare where peace and quiet were easy to obtain. All throughout the island, locals were running around, trying to save everything they could, reporting problems to the coast guards. It was chaos on both sides of the Outer Banks, and although Willow always sought for unfortunate souls to help, her eyes were droopy and her head was spinning.
The chirping of the seagulls and the overlapping voices shouting over each other at the docks made it all the much easier for Willow to sneak into the jetty, her figure at least fifty times smaller than the large ships docked on her left and right.
Walking in her direction was a man. Thin, brown hair, a brown cap covering his eyes from the glaring sun and glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. His t-shirt was too big for his figure so he tucked it into his cargo pants, but the fabric puffed out slightly. He kept his right hand in his pocket, right below his fanny pack. Silver keys dangled from a large metallic ring which his left index finger was looped through rather loosely.
Now, Willow Brown never endorsed stealing. It was a crime and for god's sake her dad was a cop. But, she wasn't stealing anything per se. It was more of borrowing. And besides, she was desperate.
Willow Brown was not a kleptomaniac, that's for sure. But sometimes, when life doesn't give you lemons to make lemonade, you gotta pluck some from the garden.
And sometimes, that garden may not be yours.
"Oh my god!" Willow exclaimed, jumping backwards after she had barely passed the man. Her elbows struck his back harshly, causing him to fall to the floor, onto his knees. His glasses fell before him and his keys skidded across the jetty, a soft clanking sounding.
Willow fell onto her butt, her head instantly snapping to the man. She watched as he obliviously searched for his glasses, his hands slapping the ground below as he squinted his eyes.
Willow shot up, placing a hand on his back and taking his hand before pulling him up. "Sir, I am so, so sorry." the blonde cried as the man dusted himself blindly.
"No, no, it's alright." he assured. "But if you don't mind, I think I lost my—"
"Oh, of course!" Willow interrupted, spinning around swiftly and picking up his keys that had skidded a few feet away. Her eyes scanned each key until they landed on a single, rusted gold key, the words 'The Heathens.' carved into the metal.
