Winter Trees

He was like the beach. Yes, the beach - and she was the ocean. He was the whole damn beach - the sand, the shingles, the lonesome driftwood, the shells, and the endless pale nothingness; and she was the whole damn ocean - the water, the waves, the foamy splashes and tongues, and the tides that touches and goes at his feet.

He was the beach and she was the ocean.

He had imagined drowning in her bipolar waters and not even putting up a fight - he was a soldier and was devout and had fought for his life and his country, but for once he found something he would gladly succumb to. And the bed of the sea, the lonesome trenches, would be his grave.

But to her, he was something else. She didn't have a sophisticated, William Shakespeare metaphor to describe what he meant to her. All she had was English and lip prints on her bruises.

And to her, that was enough.

-

This is the story of young Liam Mathers and the ever so elusive Abigail Winters.