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A short, short story...

Grains OF Sand

By Tim Uhr

 

 

 

 

 

         It was a beach party for two. With a thousand seagulls there only as casual observers, we were not quite alone. The gulls called her name and the waves applauded her smile. The shimmering sun off the water gave an extra sparkle to her eyes.

         Tourists, us both, of this wondrous space. A place to wear our hearts without fear. For we had the sea to wash away the debris of past encounters: the sun to bake in the good, warming our souls, and freeing our hearts: the wind to caress us into thoughts of love unblemished.

          It was a bright, warm morning. We met at the beach. I was walking. She was running. My heart raced, as her breathing slowed.

         With the day’s heat, she grew embarrassed by my stare as she wiped beads of sweat off a wrinkled brow. She used her unoccupied hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun. I think my glare was more intense, as was the spark that flashed between us when our eyes met, the spark to ignite a thousand suns.

         Unaware of the stupid grin I must have been wearing, it was my turn to blush as she said she liked my smile.

 

         The ocean breeze turned her sweat to Goosebumps, as the sky grew dark. The sun magically brought a colorful, dramatic end to the world’s shortest day. I looked on in amazement, noting that my coat, now around her, was the only thing between us that wasn’t a perfect fit. So comfortable in each other’s arms, sleep came over us as a welcome and expected friend.

 

         Chasing away the chill on a dewy morning, we welcomed the warming sun, which brought life back into our stretching, aching limbs.

         A chance encounter, later to be talked of as fate…

  

         Even now, I occasionally return to that same bench. I remember that girl. My eyes grow misty from the spray off the rocks. I wipe my face with an arthritic hand. From a girl to a woman I watched and shared her growth, yet I never loved her more than on that first meeting on the beach. Although I have many fond memories from our years together, I will always put memories of that day upon velvet lined shelves, behind locked crystal glass doors, deep in the pleasure center of my mind. That day that started my wonderful life with that girl would always be unprecedented. Hidden memories like fine china, only to bring out on special occasions, any more than that would almost feel abusive to my sanity and tear ducts.

          I look forward to my frequent trips to that beach, using them as the key to unlock those special memories, just as I know that she awaits our rejoining as she stays in her own velvet lined resting place.


         She was always more patient than me.



The End




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Another quick one

Titled "Endings"

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