Sea Glass

Fog Over the Sea

I visited the beach in the mornings as often as I could after that; captivated by the way the sea looked, glittering in the baby sunlight, the way the dry sand blew over the wet sand with the morning breeze, the way the foamy water lapped against wet rocks.

I refused to admit I was captivated by the strange man collecting rocks on the wet part of the sand, but I was, positively enraptured. I took more photographs, lying to myself that it was just to get the perfect shot for my assignment - but not even I could pretend to believe such a lie.

I always left before the man, but whenever I can back after school he was gone; of course, I knew it was crazy to think he'd be there all day, but a part of me couldn't help but feel disappointed when I don't see him in the afternoon light - I wanted to see him in every light, and I didn't even know his name.

It must've been weeks before I even learned that much, weeks before I learned that the tenure of his voice matched perfectly with his tousled brown hair and bright red nose.

I found this out one early November morning, when I went to the beach and found that the strange man I'd been admiring for weeks was nowhere in sight. I felt sad, distantly, as I sunk down onto the dry sand by the dunes, my hands in the pockets of my bomber jacket and my nose becoming runny with the cold. My camera was around my neck, like usual, and my school bag was open at my side.

There was a fog over the sea that day, so I resigned myself to capturing it, the black rocks disappearing into nothingness and the red and white lighthouse nowhere to be found on the most; and then he sat down next to me, rubbing his red hands together to generate warmth and a fluffy hat pulled low over his hair. I wouldn't have known it was him, if it wasn't for the large black parks and rosy red cheeks.

"Hello." He said after a moment of me staring, camera still held towards the foggy sea and mouth hanging open.

"Uh." I stuttered intelligently, lowering my camera to my lap.

The man ignored my awkwardness, instead turning to me with a wide smile framed with chapped lips and white teeth. "I'm Dan, it's nice to finally meet you."

His voice was slightly rough with the cold, but I could hear the cheery undertones with every syllable, hear the accent with the way he pronounced his i's and a's. He shook out his hand, and I almost ripped sideways trying to pull mine out of my pocket to shake it. "What do you mean, 'finally'?" I asked, aware of how rude I sounded. He just chuckled, like nothing in the world could faze him.

"Well you've been standing over here for weeks now, I was waiting for you to introduce yourself but, well, I figured you never would." He explained, and I felt my fave draining of more and more colour with every syllable. "So I came over and did it myself."

I groaned, burying my face in my hands with shame and embarrassment. "Oh God! I am so sorry..."

He laughed again, catching me completely off guard. "It's fine, I liked it."

"I was borderline stalking you!"

"Yes you were - can I see the pictures?"

I froze, and it had nothing to do with the icy wind. "You-you want to... See my pictures?"

He smiled with his mouth closed, his eyes watching my face like I had words written on my forehead. "I would love to."

I didn't know what to say, so I just handed over my camera, the strap still around my neck forcing me to lean on closer, and allowing this stranger - Dan - to look through all of my photographs like they meant nothing; I never let anybody look through my camera, didn't let anybody look at my photographs unless I handed them in for an assignment, and here I was - showing some stranger who apparently liked me stalking him.

"These are very good!" He said, snapping me out of my nervous thoughts.

"They are?" And I felt so stupid around him; this older man who found it so amusing that I could say nothing to him except to question whatever he had already said.

"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true." Dan said, his eyes finding mine like a homing beacon. Now that I could see Dan up close, I realised that Dan was brighter than anything I had ever seen, brighter than the weak morning sun, brighter than the light house which had disappeared in the fog - Dan was too bright to be on a beach, his light distracting wayward sailors from the beam of the lighthouse, from the guidance of the stars. "What's your name?"

I took my camera back slowly, switching it off slipping the steep over my head to drop it carelessly into my bag. "My name is Phil, I've never seen you before."

Dan nodded like he was expecting me to say those exact words. "I don't really go out much, except for in the mornings when it's quieter. You're new here anyway."

I bit my chapped lips. "I've been here a year, I wouldn't call that 'new'."

"In a town like this - if you weren't born here, you're new."

I understood, it was a small town, more a village than anything, in the year I had lived here there had been no other new people moving in. I was often still referred to as the 'new boy' when meeting people I'd never met before, or encountering friendly sales assistants who had never served me before. Something told me I'd always be the new boy.

"What about you?" I asked, "we're you born here?"

Dan got a sort of wistful look to his eyes then, moving his gaze back out to the fog and not giving any sign of answering for some moments, I felt I had crossed a barrier, asked too much, before he opened his mouth to say, "yes I was - but I went away for university."

"Everybody goes away for university." I said, remembering all of the discussions we'd had in school about universities - the closest one was in Newcastle. "Something tells me not everyone comes back."

"Not everyone does - that's why you'll only ever find families with children or elderly retired couples here."

"Why did you come back?" I asked, and then winced. "I mean, if you don't mind my asking."

"I don't." Dan insisted. "I
Don't mind, but I'm afraid you have to leave, so maybe I'll tell you the story another time." He smiled at me as my eyes widened, realising he was right as I checked the time on my phone. School had already started.

I stood up, hastily wiping sand off of my jeans and bag before stumbling up the dunes.

"Goodbye, Phil!" Dan called after me, I turned around and saw him standing, lightly curled hair blowing over his face and hand raised in a wave.

I smiled, raising my hand to return the wave. "Bye, Dan!"

The next day, I talked to Dan again, and the day after that, and after that.

I can't wait for the pace to pick up a bit - I swear guys I have a plot for this story