So there's this girl. And she's walking along the beach and the wind's blowing
through her hair. It's dark brown, long and wavey. And it can't help but succumb
to the wind and obey its direction. She keeps stopping. She takes two steps and
she stops. She's trying to fix her hair. Every two steps she pushes it back
behind her ears. She finishes and starts walking again only to have the wind
force it back into her face. She's given up.
And her feet, as she walks, they're getting wet. She took her shoes off, she's
holding them now. The waves they keep rolling around her feet. Splashing about.
And there's water creeping up her legs. She's walking straight but the beach
curves. So she's going deeper. And now her knees are collecting the tip of the
waves. She's cold. She hugs herself. A failed attempt at preserving body heat.
She's still cold, but she's still walking straight. She's got shorts on. They're
black and now they're wet. She feels her legs walking but she's lost control over
them. And maybe she's not walking straight anymore.
And she looks back every so often. Just to look. She sees a vacant beach. Her
focus on herself leads her away from concern for other people. The water level
has risen and her shoes are gone. And she looks back and sees them drifting out
to sea. Eager to reach the horizon. She doesn't want them back. Her legs still
carry her forward. She's walking slower now. Her clothes are heavy. Her once dry
t-shirt is now damp and dark. She holds back her hair. And then she stops. The
water threatening to drown her shoulders. A glance back. A deep breath. And now
there's people at the beach. A smile on her face becomes so misleading. She has
time. The sun stopped playing with the hills. Shadows have grown and eaten the
beach. It's dark. But she's so innocent she's glowing. And the people see her,
before they can't.