Cast your words away upon the waves, and sail them home with acquiesce
There was a trail of footsteps from a cloth to the sea. It was the only evidence that the proprietor of the cloth had not vanished off the island. On the cloth lay a book, the pages flipping over as the calm wind blew. A glass of wine, half empty, stood beside it, and - as though it had accidentally fallen - a still smoldering cigarette lay in the sand. A pair of sneakers had been carelessly discarded on the sand also. To those who knew him or had seen him on the beach more often, the cloth was evidently Guy's.
But Guy wasn't there. He was walking on the shore, his bare feet in and out of the water, the waves erasing the trail behind him. He had a bottle of wine clutched in his hand, and the other in his trouser pocket, his eyes cast down, his thoughts miles away.
They were here. His three best friends were all here. He did want to be pleased with that. But right now he wasn't. Because of the things said and above all because of the things not said. Because of the age difference (he didn't mind being the youngest, but he did mind being the one with the least knowledge of the course of their lives). Because of the bitter edge age had given two of his friends. Because…
Like waves washed ashore and returned to the sea, thoughts came and went, collided, intertwined and left again. Leaving him pissed off and well on the way to becoming pissed.
((Find him on his walk, on his way to inebriation. Late tags and ST welcome as always.))
But Guy wasn't there. He was walking on the shore, his bare feet in and out of the water, the waves erasing the trail behind him. He had a bottle of wine clutched in his hand, and the other in his trouser pocket, his eyes cast down, his thoughts miles away.
They were here. His three best friends were all here. He did want to be pleased with that. But right now he wasn't. Because of the things said and above all because of the things not said. Because of the age difference (he didn't mind being the youngest, but he did mind being the one with the least knowledge of the course of their lives). Because of the bitter edge age had given two of his friends. Because…
Like waves washed ashore and returned to the sea, thoughts came and went, collided, intertwined and left again. Leaving him pissed off and well on the way to becoming pissed.
((Find him on his walk, on his way to inebriation. Late tags and ST welcome as always.))