
The chill in the air is unmistakable, the snow is coming soon.
I stand on the beach tracing spirals in the sand with a spindly piece of driftwood.
My ears ache and lungs burn from the cold.
In the sand I draw my eye, the another, my nose, my lips pouting, a tear.
The setting suns rays blanket the smooth surface causing my indentations to come alive.
I am alone, he is walking too briskly and doesn’t notice that I am no longer trailing behind.
The seabirds call and salty wind whips through my hair.
He sees me now and is moving in my direction.
He steps gingerly on my forehead and walks down the bridge of my nose, chuckling at the tear.
I feel the pressure of his step and the laughter stings.
But this is not me, it is just lines in the sand.