She stands on the end of the pier and looks out over the dried up seabed. The wind pulls at her hair and scratches at her face, but she takes it, she doesn't flinch, she doesn't turn away. Tears sting her already swollen eyes. She does not blink. They fall, drop by drop, rolling down her cheek, as she stares off in a sorrowful stupor. For days and days she stays there, waiting, hoping. But no one comes. Finally she is jolted awake by a rush of water washing over her toes. She looks down, then back up at the seabed. It is no longer dry. It is overflowing.
Realizing what has happened, she wipes her eyes and turns and walks away. She is done here.
No comments:
Post a Comment