Pen scratching paper and the fabric of a sleeve sliding gracefully across it. The wind whistling. The light crunching of passing footsteps in the sand. The water; quiet, almost inaudible. Until, on perfect cue, the swell builds. Rising with it the sound of rushing water. Growing. Growing. Growing, until it breaks, crashing violently, yet majestically, down onto the sand. Then trickles back down in rhythm, leaving a trail of foaming bubbles popping chaotically against the wet sand.

Written by JR Lindsey

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