He sunk his hand as far as it would go into the sand. As he lifted it up and out, the cool grains swept against his skin and parted ways on each side of his palm. A wave licked at the heel of his foot. He tucked his straight, dark hair behind his ears and took the guitar pick from between his teeth. The moon brushed the surface of the night sea with white, gleaming gems. The gems burned and played in the depths of the young man's despondent eyes.
With his guitar nestled upon his bent legs, he ran the pads of his fingers up and down every string. He wanted to write a song as monotonous and absorbing as the waves before him.
He turned his head and saw a group of teens running toward a spot down the length of the empty beach. They shrieked and exhaled and disturbed the air around them. Boxy-looking boys pummeled each other, and the spellbound girls hollered and cried as if they had never seen a night so wild and impulsive.
One of the boys yelled and another threw a football through the air. The girls had brought a small radio with them. They huddled close together around the low thud of synthetic amusement, dancing, making limbs of their arms in the erudite breeze. Their long hair brushed against their faces, giving the stars new territory to conquer.
None of this stopped him from singing. From envisioning himself below the surface of the ocean. Somehow dry and stuck in time. Somehow lost and plagued and holding onto water as if it would hold him, too. Carry him away to its deepest, darkest drop.
As a wave pounced onto the shore, he was ripped away from his aural trance by what seemed to be a slick, black seal jet past against the rush within the water. It was then swallowed whole. He licked his lips and kept singing. The black and wet animal resurfaced on top of a white slab. His fingers skipped over a chord. His hair whipped around his face as the breeze picked up.
The animal was female, tall and focused. She ran out of the waves and clung her board to her side. The group hollered at her. Teased her. She set her board down next to her and wrung her hair out. Some anointed drops of ocean sprayed onto his face as she did so.
"Don't stop," she breathed.
The gems in his eyes flashed bright as she stood before him. He played for her and imagined them locked beneath the tide. Holding their breath. Holding each other. Caught up in the whirling damage of it all. Making sandcastles of the others. Making oceans of themselves.
