| Water
rushed the shore with the usual shimmer and foam. I looked out
to the beach from the window upstairs as she dressed for lunch.
A thin gathering of gulls hovered between sky and sea.
I didn't worry over
what to wear, as my thoughts were concerned and cornered by
other matters.
The cigarette growing
short between my fingers. There were clouds; a chance of rain,
but there always was.
Back in the city, I
had one more day to turn in the story.
I had a paragraph. The
basic facts.
I could hear her heels
were pacing and this meant the makeup would soon be applied
and perhaps I should start to consider what clothes to pick
for the day.
The story seemed to
be a good one, at least it did when I got it.
The countess that recently
divorced and moved to this sleepy beach town where even the
tourists were too few to stand out from the locals.
Of course, as it happened,
the distractions were decidedly better.
Sheryl, presently applying
lipstick or some other color contraption to her cute yet commanding
face which I found irresistible especially in the twilight
hours when the moon hung above the waves like a silver watch
in the chromatic sky.
And then there was the
drink. The burning song of tequila, we danced through the
nights.
I had just shut the
cell into itself. The editor's voice still sounding in the
ear of memory. There was the hint of a threat within those
words.
I didn't mind being
fired, it was just the money I'd miss and after these decadent
days I would really miss it. Decadence is not a cheap affair
and I suspect that it never was.
Thankfully, there is
only so much debauchery an individual can take before giving
up and going back to some type of normality.
I could make up a story,
but they were expecting some type of statement from the countess.
A mixture of a few stale
filters and ashes made its way onto the hard, steady surface
of the pale red fabric that passed for a rug at the Sapphire
Inn, as I introduced another done cigarette into the laminated
glass ashtray.
Looking over at the
laptop which had not been propped into use since the train
ride, I thought I should at least write out the paragraph
I have . . .
"Are you ready,"
she called out and I responded with a cautious yes as my preparation
was only for the uncertain future.
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