An afternoon coffee was served at exactly 04:30, precisely how it was done ever since the pension house opened. But today they were serving 2 for 1 to compensate for the low foot traffic. She was alone by the sea breeze and mused about the other dreamers who sat there at the same table over the years and wallowed about the tides that had brought to them. On the prints of each page, she graciously borrowed a steady meaning and sipped the reflection of the setting sun from a coffee cup.
When other couples have regular date nights, this was hers. For her, she was married to the sea. They never did celebrate anniversaries, nor have consistent birthday dinners, but never once did she skip their summers together. Here, they exchanged glances for the longest time while tasting its kiss through the salt in the wind. She lingered in its arms, longer than most men she slept with, and they made love so endlessly in the enveloping formation of curls and foams.
She will not grow weary of her.
And she wondered how she got there, and she thought about her mom. Her parents raised her well, gave her good education, and taught her that grace and humility far exceed any talent in the world. And for her, their most precious gift was her well-traveled feet that led her shadows home.
One of the guests walked through the beaded blinds decorated with seashells and surveyed the sunburned faces in the room. Her face was veiled by the shade of the baseball cap brim and her temples were draped by her long dark hair. She was carrying a messenger bag and a gray hoodie hanged limp on its sling.
The guest walked past her while calling out her name. Her complexion was mid-toned.
They caught each other’s eyes and locked for a while.
From afar, the lines of their lips broke apart in turns. The words fell out so silently and there were no movements apart from that.
Life was not perfect, so she realized, but so is the cratered moon.
She was introduced to contempt for the first time.