Today when I walked down the beach, I went the other way, towards town. I listened to music and zoned out of reality. A few job applications later, I was walking back.
This time, I didn't look down when I walked. Every now and then, I'd step on a shell and bite back a curse. But it was better than keeping my head down and not seeing what was lying ahead.
I saw more than just the ocean. When I was in town, I had walked through a few of the neighborhoods, seeing what the town looked like, mapping it out. A lot of the houses were unique in style, with an oddly shaped window or a bright color splashed on them. It made me wonder whether I should give the outside of Jim's place a fresh coat.
When I got home, or as close to a home I have in this town, I didn't know where everything was. So I went through the house, tossing out the things that were trashing the place—broken furniture that I couldn't fix, shattered plates, rusted over cookware from the open windows... then the windows themselves because they were so warped they wouldn't close.
I thought about the girl a few times. I told myself that she had probably woken up. She was probably long gone by now.
YOU ARE READING
60 Days of Salt and Sand
Short StoryBeing published September 10th! "She wasn't floating when I found her. She wasn't exactly sinking, either... Just still. Deadly still. At least, I thought she was dead. But then I felt a pulse. And that was enough to get me to fight for her.'
