Looking At Things

Don was dressed in a plain red shirt and charcoal linen shorts. He had seated himself on a backless concrete bench in the warm wind, looking out over the abiding sea. Boats were ploughing on its surface in the distance... shrimping boats by the looks of it. Don could never get enough of this sight. The vast, pale ocean lay before him, spread out in all directions. But it looked small and glistening as if a giant had sneezed a cloud of diamonds on it.

On the boardwalk behind him, a trail of holidaymakers was strolling along in the midday sun. They left behind them an impression of eternity and mellowness, formed by their slow steps. He saw a man running bend over to regain possession of his straw summer hat that had been blown off. Classic. Don averted his eyes from the act and continued watching the wasp drowning in his glass of lemonade.

A dainty young woman came walking up the path from the village. She was wearing baggy jeans and beat sneakers. A gloomy figure despite the bright red lipstick. Under her arm, she carried some books. Don shot up and positioned himself before her. ‘Hi there... will you come and throw this frisbee with me?’

[I'm as tired as this text...]