I am standing not ten feet from him. His full lips are pressed into a thin, tight line. I notice that he is carrying with him a towel and a skim board. He was planning to play along the water's edge. It is more than most would do, and takes much more balance than I posses. Still, the mood I am in does not allow for much empathy, and I feel as if I am regarding a different species of being, who cannot understand what I am. I feel not that he is not human, but rather that I am not.
The water is foaming around my mid thigh, and the sand keeps slipping from under my feet. I am used to this, and can stand where others might lose there balance. Funny that I can barely walk a straight line on cement. I am suddenly aware that he is wearing nothing but swim trunks, and I pause for a moment to admire the view. It is a very good view. Not the best that I have seen, living on a beach, but certainly up there. He has a scar running from above his left waist towards the right hip, following the curve of the bone and disappearing below the line of his shorts. I must admit to thinking sinful thoughts. He bears burn scars across one shoulder and upper arm. A tribal tattoo rings the other. This boy's body intrigues me. It is less than perfect, and I like it. It carries stories. But He will not enter the water, and so he is not for me.
"Are you too afraid to swim?" I call to him. My hair whips around me in the wind, and I take a moment to tie it back in a bun as tightly as I can. It will stay for a while.
"Are you aware that you are going to kill yourself?" He calls back. He saounds frustrated, and I do not care in the slightest.
I laugh, haughtily and carelessly. "We all die, boy. I can handle these waters, as i have before. If I am to die, so be it. I will have died living." I begin to back into the next wave, as I am growing bored with the conversation, and I know that if my adrenaline rush wares off, I will not be able to continue.
"Is this all you have to live for?" He asks. I shake my head no, but do not awnser. I dive into the next wave. I dissapear.
The water is foaming around my mid thigh, and the sand keeps slipping from under my feet. I am used to this, and can stand where others might lose there balance. Funny that I can barely walk a straight line on cement. I am suddenly aware that he is wearing nothing but swim trunks, and I pause for a moment to admire the view. It is a very good view. Not the best that I have seen, living on a beach, but certainly up there. He has a scar running from above his left waist towards the right hip, following the curve of the bone and disappearing below the line of his shorts. I must admit to thinking sinful thoughts. He bears burn scars across one shoulder and upper arm. A tribal tattoo rings the other. This boy's body intrigues me. It is less than perfect, and I like it. It carries stories. But He will not enter the water, and so he is not for me.
"Are you too afraid to swim?" I call to him. My hair whips around me in the wind, and I take a moment to tie it back in a bun as tightly as I can. It will stay for a while.
"Are you aware that you are going to kill yourself?" He calls back. He saounds frustrated, and I do not care in the slightest.
I laugh, haughtily and carelessly. "We all die, boy. I can handle these waters, as i have before. If I am to die, so be it. I will have died living." I begin to back into the next wave, as I am growing bored with the conversation, and I know that if my adrenaline rush wares off, I will not be able to continue.
"Is this all you have to live for?" He asks. I shake my head no, but do not awnser. I dive into the next wave. I dissapear.
