The girl at the beach

The girl stared at the circles she’d drawn in the sand with her toes — little concentric whole shapes that closed in tighter among themselves as they neared the centre. In the middle of it — ‘the eye’ as she called it — she dropped a tiny pebble. The impact of its landing sent grains of sand sifting through the air and falling in uneven layers over where the boundaries of the little circles were carved. Now, they no longer looked as defined as before, the way a lake’s ripples eventually dissipate into a flatness. 

It was dusk, twilight, the part of day immediately following sunset. The beach was always emptiest at this time, and the loneliest, but also the most beautiful. Looking up from her sand ripples and out to sea, she saw how its reflection was punctuated with the rich crimson clouds that dotted the evening sky and wondered what it must be like as a drop of ocean or a single sliver of the sky. Not only are you forever bound in a bigger expanse, the only way you can look is up or down, never away. An eternity of mirrored existence.

 

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