Long Nights

[10] dalampasigan

海辺
10. dalampasigan
— where the waves meet the shore.

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8:28 p.m. NIGHT #10.

dedicated to Chaamie.

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NOAH

The evening breeze that tonight brought was different. It was colder, yes, but also windier — as if it carried so much more than air that was swept across Tokyo in excited fervor.

Or maybe it was just because I was by the bay, feet buried in the sand, salt air stinging my cheeks, and the crashing of waves as my company. Up there was the moon, round and incandescent, but ethereal nonetheless.

My whole demeanor felt different too. There was a flutter in my stomach that couldn't stop, different from the usual nausea I would feel ever since the accident. Hands weren't shaking, but they were sweating; knees weren't weak, but they were slightly trembling; and my heart was so alive — so, so alive it could burst out from my chest at any given moment.

In my mind, I couldn't seem to erase the entirety of her. She was bones and flesh and human; but oh was she beautiful.

The daze I have gotten myself into was cut short when I heard the familiar sound of the rickety troll, a few yards from the beach.

I turned around to see a young girl bow to the conductor in gratitude, before holding on to her straw hat in fear of it being blown by the wind, and walked towards my position. By the time she raised her face, our eyes locked and we both greeted each other with shy, nervous smiles — different once again, from the teasing grins and playful expressions we have grown to do over the past few nights.

She was wearing a long frolicky, pale green dress with ruffles below. It was shorter in the front — barely just above her knees — and longer from behind, trailing like a wedding gown.

As she approached, I couldn't help but notice that her hair, that seemed to have grown a few inches longer, had been caught by the salty air, making her face brighter, clearer. 

"Hey," she greeted with a smile, eyes squinting as she did. Despite this, I could still see the moon reflected in her irises as if inviting me to a trance.

"Hey," I respond back, barely with a breath. I notice that her dress had shorter sleeves, and so I instinctively shrugged my coat from my shoulders before placing it around her.

"Thank you," she whispered, our faces close. My hands had grown even colder with the evening breeze fanning up its sweat, and so I stuff it into the pockets of my khaki shorts.

"No problem," I smile back.

"Have you waited for a while?" She asked, standing beside me and staring into the vastness of the ocean — black rocks and indigo waves pushing and pulling, crashing and falling.

If anything, the water reminded me of myself, pulled by the magnetic force of the lady beside me, and pushed by whatever decency and control I still have left. As for the crashing and falling part — well, let's just say this was a whole other dilemma.

"No," I shook my head, watching the waves as well. "Just enough time to think."

"I see, the waves does hypnotize you in a lucid state of mind when stared at long enough." She remarks, and I manage a smile.

I wonder if my expression is obvious, if she could see right through me and read my thoughts, know that it was her that hypnotize me, her that continuously places me in a trance.