The air smelled like fish. Her nose crinkled in disgust at the stench wafting off the chilly water. Why couldn’t they have gone to California for the beach? What was so special about Washington? There weren’t beaches anyway, just pebbly shores. There weren’t any people here, either, and it was too cloudy. Wasn’t it supposed to be sunny at the beach? It’s too damn cold for the ocean, she thought as the salty breeze cut through her windbreaker. Her hair whipped at her cheeks and she brushed it away irritably. Her feet hurt from walking barefoot on the rocks, and her nose was beginning to drip. One of many gulls called overhead, and she glared at it before turning her icy stare to her husband. How is he enjoying this?
He drank in the briny air. The cries of the gulls were musical, and the roar of the water was comforting. Thank god they weren’t in California — there were too many people. It ruined the experience. A cold wind picked up and ruffled his hair, sending goosebumps down his bare arms. His windbreaker hung limp in his hand, half-forgotten. He stepped up to his ankles in the rough, dark water, and let the wet sand soothe the familiar ache in his feet that came with walking on pebbles. He closed his eyes and beamed at the cloudy sky, then turned his grin to his wife, who was staring at him, disgruntled. How is she not enjoying this?
Thank you Rara for this week’s For The Promptless. I don’t participate nearly as often as I should.