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A Wave of Necessity

The landscape was broken, of that he was certain. Rugged browns seemed to blend into twisted greens and icy grays, giving the scenery the impression of a watercolor. The sun had begun to set, casting strands of orange light onto his gaunt frame. He extended his hands, attempting to grasp the light that was slowly slipping through his fingers.
He yawned. “Yeah, the whole damn thing is broken,” he said to no one in particular. He turned his back on the scene, slowly walking away under the waning light of the shattered sun.
He arrived back in town about two hours later to find her sitting at a corner table in a quaint restaurant that overlooked the sea. He eased into the seat next to her, yet she did not seem to notice him, for her attention was fully devoted to the white crests of the waves as they crashed onto the rocky shore. He did not say a word.

“They keep coming,” she said after an eternity.

“What keeps coming?” he answered softly.

“The waves of course. They watch their brothers eagerly launch themselves upon the rocks. They hear them roar as they tumble upon the sand that shatters them into millions of glimmering pieces, teardrops on the shore. It all seems a bit masochistic, don’t you think?”

“Maybe the next wave believes that it will finally be the one to break the shore.”

“A martyr of pride?”

“No a martyr of necessity.” They sat in silence for a couple of minutes.

“Where did you go?” she asked.

“Back.”

“Why did you go there again?”

“To see if it was different without you.”

“Was it?” she asked.

“It was.”

“Was it better?”

“Never.” He said softly.

“Why?”

“Because you weren’t beside me.”

“What’s the real reason? I don’t deserve flattery.”

“Yes you do.”

“Don’t. Don’t try to break me,” she said, her voice fading.

“Don’t tell me to stop. You know I can’t stop. Please.”

“Stop,” she said with finality. She stood, fists clenched, eyes sparkling with moonlight. She walked towards the sea, her feet leaving small footprints on the shore. He watched as she glided towards the crashing waves. He stood and walked next to her, sprays of salty water blurring his vision.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just think that you’re so,”

“Stop. Stop now!” She was moving into the ocean, water waist deep, hands stretched towards the sky. He ran forward, waves crashing violently on his chest, pushing his towards the rocky shore. Finally he tumbled in a stir of salt and shimmering droplets. His head smashed against the ground with a thud. He saw her body, breaking through the waves with apparent ease. His eyes brimmed with tears, teardrops on the shore.



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