On the beach

Neon pink bikini top with whitish blue striped bottoms. She speaks in an English accent, calling to her mother that she wants to feel the water. Her hips invite those willing as they sway from side to side with each step. Her dirty blonde hair and her posture of confidence leave him longing to stand by her side. He always had been drawn to the “I do not need anyone” type; one of those idiots who preferred to want rather than to have. She feels his gaze and butterflies stir within her. She can only picture what he looks like. She imagines him tall, strong, and fearless. He does not have to imagine, he has never wanted anything so much in his life. She bends over and runs her hand through the waves touching the shore. It is too much for him. A smile that he cannot see forms on her face. She turns and walks back, her face contorting into an ugly squint. As she approaches, he notices her sun-scorched red face. As she approaches, she notices his fat bulging gut. His eyes move down her body, seeing an awful bruise on her knee and an unattractive mole on her arm. His balding head reveals a forty-year-old man and she feels her butterflies turning into nausea. Their visions of each other shatter and are blown into the wind. They both sit outside each other’s view, staring out toward the ocean, imagining something greater.

 

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