Sticks and Stones and Rising Voices
one
Sandcastles, baked crisp by the hot noon sun, crumbled under the stormy waves of the Atlantic as gulls glided on the generous gusts of salty air. Several of the black tipped birds bobbed out on the waters, taunting Ione as she stood on the shore allowing the tide to crash into her shins and rush backward into the sea, betting on how long it would take before they dragged her out.
The bronze of her skin was in contrast against the granules stuck to her sweat dampened body and clothing. A wrinkled pack of American Spirits peeked out of her jean shorts pocket, but it was one of Ewan's menthol Marlboros tucked between her teeth. She hated the taste of Marlboro, but she didn't have the money or the mood for her Spirits to go to waste.
She exhaled and the smoke twisted into the oncoming storm.
One of the gulls dawdled to her side as the tide backed out. She flicked the ash from the tip of her cigarette. The sky had darkened to the south, leaving only a small drop of sun in the west. The tide crashed back in, startling the gull into flight and sucking Ione's legs, daring her to come with it.
A melodic chime sounded from Ione's left hand. The black text popped onto the cracked screen of the heavy cell phone. Ewan was awake.
Ione took one last, long drag from the cigarette before flicking it into sea. Lightning split the sky and a roll of thunder followed. She wasn't sure what she saw in him, or he in her, but they could never seem to find much time to be apart. She walked back across the dunes, barefoot, back through downtown under the swaying palms, back to the broken terra cotta tiles of the front steps, careful to kick the sharp pieces over the edge of the patio.
Back to the face she could never deny.
The bronze of her skin was in contrast against the granules stuck to her sweat dampened body and clothing. A wrinkled pack of American Spirits peeked out of her jean shorts pocket, but it was one of Ewan's menthol Marlboros tucked between her teeth. She hated the taste of Marlboro, but she didn't have the money or the mood for her Spirits to go to waste.
She exhaled and the smoke twisted into the oncoming storm.
One of the gulls dawdled to her side as the tide backed out. She flicked the ash from the tip of her cigarette. The sky had darkened to the south, leaving only a small drop of sun in the west. The tide crashed back in, startling the gull into flight and sucking Ione's legs, daring her to come with it.
A melodic chime sounded from Ione's left hand. The black text popped onto the cracked screen of the heavy cell phone. Ewan was awake.
Ione took one last, long drag from the cigarette before flicking it into sea. Lightning split the sky and a roll of thunder followed. She wasn't sure what she saw in him, or he in her, but they could never seem to find much time to be apart. She walked back across the dunes, barefoot, back through downtown under the swaying palms, back to the broken terra cotta tiles of the front steps, careful to kick the sharp pieces over the edge of the patio.
Back to the face she could never deny.