A Walk on the Beach
/Man goes for a walk after a breakup.
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He walked along the path. On his left was the vast beach, with waves crashing along its shores. He had already passed two of the lifeguard towers, a few restrooms most people avoided, and an outdoor shower wall.
He could also see a few large tankers a few miles from shore, and a handful of small boats. In the distance there was an oil rig, and he tried to remember when they were given permission to drill.
The beaches were deserted except for a couple of large bonfires in the distance. He imagined a group of maybe fifteen teens around each fire; basking in the glow.
There would a couple of kids pretending they were cool strumming the only cover song they knew. If the kids were lucky then maybe the college kids would show up with some beer and weed. If not then they would figure something out. He looked up at the clouds forming over the ocean. Maybe not tonight he thought. There was definitely a storm moving in. Any young lovers would have to move to the warmth inside.
On his left were tiny shops lined up next to each other. From this side, one could only tell the shops apart by the type of paraphernalia, posters and out of date stickers shown on the back walls and windows.
There were a couple of restaurants that would normally have opened the patio for today's festivities. Conversations would carry on a calm day. Beers in glass bottles and cans, pints and jugs would be visible everywhere. One need only look towards any stairwell or ledge on a back wall to find the stranded, empty vessels of vagrancy.
He walked along the path for what felt like miles. The city was vast, with millions of other residents. Some hardcore surfers and beachcombers were the last to rush towards cars, bikes and scooters. They barely escaped the sudden downpour. He soon found himself all alone. He continued walking.
It was New Year's Eve and he had just broken up with his girlfriend of seven months. He though he was in love. Maybe he was but she wasn't, not with him. She wanted to date some exchange student from Belgium. Exclusively. He screamed some epithets. The storm masked his voice and matched his internal tempest. It would pass.
He was no high schooler. He wasn't fresh out of college. Still it hurt. He said a mantra a camp counselor had taught them: Try, try, try again. If at first you don't succeed try, try, try again. There was that woman at the coffee shop that he had been lightly flirting with the last few months. He could start there. Best time of the year. A new year. Light broke through over the ocean. For a moment there was a perfect stillness that encompassed the sky, sea and land. The storm had passed.
By Alex Almeida
From: United States
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