24 Hours

I'm not sure why I was at the beach. Maybe it was because I realised that my marriage was finally over. Maybe it was because I had romanticised ideas of peace and self-discovery or some shit. Or maybe it was because I simply had nowhere else to go.

But it felt right. I just kept on walking and the beach is where my feet brought me. On the way here I had passed the Roundhouse as they were kicking out the last of the stragglers, and an extremely beautiful but extremely drunk young woman was vomiting all over the street and her shoes and her hair. It was sad. It saddened me, if I'm honest. She should have been at home with somebody who loved her, and not all alone and throwing up in an alleyway. But what can you do? Nothing. Not a damn thing. I walked past her without even so much as acknowledging the poor girl. Normally I would have stopped to help her, or at least I like to think that I would, but tonight was different because I was going to the beach and nothing was going to stop me. Something was drawing me to the sea shore, and I'm not sure what, but nothing else seemed to matter as long as I got there.

Of course the beach was empty, and silent save for the gentle crashing of the waves and the buzzing of broken streetlights and the far-away sound of a young woman crying, all alone. I settled down into the soft sand with my legs crossed beneath me and I ran my fingers through the tiny golden rocks and let it all slip away. The sand and the sounds and my disgusting self-pity. It was alarmingly hypnotising.

After a while (and I'm not sure how long it was because I seemed to have lost all concept of time) I looked up into the dark night and over at dark sea. Or maybe it was the sky. It's hard to tell in the dark where one ends and the other begins. But I wasn't thinking about this. I wasn't thinking about anything. I was content in just being.

But then she arrived, and I'm not sure why she was at the beach either.

As she approached me, I began to make out more and more detail about this woman. Like her creamy white skin and her emerald-green satin dress and her golden hair all piled on top of her head. She was mesmerising. I couldn't for a second tear my eyes away from her and she came closer and closer to me and my heart slammed against my ribcage and I thought I might be sick but it felt wonderful and exhilarating and perfect and it may have been the best moment of my life.

Without a word, she lowered herself onto the sand beside me and our fingers briefly touched and I thought I might explode.

"I'm Catherine," she breathed, answering the question I had yet to ask her. Her voice was soft like I thought it might be, and as she exhaled she lowered her cheek to my shoulder, her eyes twinkling with moisture as she gazed out into the vast sea/sky.

"Sebastian," I replied slowly, in complete awe of her presence.

For a while I thought maybe I was dreaming. Everything was just so flawless; the sea, the sky, the empty beach and the two of us here together, sharing this divine moment.

All I knew about her was that she was sad. There were tears sparkling behind her doe eyes. But that was all I needed to know. I didn't want to spoil all of this by asking her why she was here, or where she had come from or where she was going or who she was. Because I just knew that it was wonderful and that I would remember this moment for the rest of my life, even if the girl and the beach and the sea and the sky all disappear.

Lost in the romance of the moment, I felt for her hand. She didn't even flinch as my fingers gripped hers, freezing cold and slender. I noticed that she was shivering in the chill of the early morning, so I slipped off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She shrugged into it graciously and let out a contented sigh.

"Do you ever wish that some moments would last forever, Sebastian?" she whispered after another long silence.

I considered my answer for a few moments, rubbing my thumb over hers. "Sometimes the beauty of those moments is in the brevity," I replied. "The fact that you know that this will always be one of the best moments of your entire life, even when everything else is gone. At the end of everything, you will always have this short memory of when everything was wonderful, just for a minute."

She gave a short, soft laugh. "You know, that may be the most immaculate thing anybody has ever said." She paused for a little while and began to chew on her lip. It was still dark but her ivory skin was visible through the blackness.

"Sebastian," she finally sighed, nuzzling her head further into me and closing her eyes. "I think I might just be in love with you."

I smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leaning in to kiss the top of her head. "I might just be in love with you too, Catherine." It was bizarre but it felt normal. We were strangers and we were in love.

I guess that got me thinking about love. What is it, really? How do you define love? Is love a verb or a noun or is it more than just a fucking word? Is love a four-year marriage with a daughter and separate beds? Is love admitting that you were wrong, and that you made a mistake? Is love really so complex? Or is love simply two strangers sitting on a dark beach, waiting for the sun to rise?

"I feel like I'm in a story," Catherine said, gazing back out into the distance.

I laughed a little. "Perhaps you are," I said. "Perhaps we both are."

She laughed, too. "Ours would be a love story," she said. "It would be a short one, but it would be a love story all the same."

I couldn't help but think that this was the most immaculate thing anybody has ever said. I just glanced into the darkness and I smiled and I enjoyed this while it lasted.

The next time I looked up, the sky was a pale grey. I guess we had been staring at the sea the whole time.

Catherine stirred too, turning her head to gaze up at me, her eyes the exact same colour as the sunrise beyond us, and her hand still entwined with mine. I smiled faintly at her and she smiled faintly back.

"You're cold," she whispered, fingering my raw cheeks with her free hand. Then, realising that my jacket was around her shoulders, she smiled again. "Oh yeah. Thanks."

Silently, I rose to my feet, and pulled Catherine onto hers. We took one last look back at the sea and the sky and then we walked hand-in-hand back onto the pier, past all the streetlights radiating out their last beams before sunrise, and past the early-morning dog-walkers and the shop owners opening up and the seagulls circling the bins in the hope of a scrap of food.

And then finally, outside the ice-cream stall, we parted without a goodbye, and it was perfect.