The Sands - Part 1
October 24th 2007 07:58
The first time her short white fluffy dress whisked across Steve’s eyeline his mouth forgot the words it was attempting to form. Her feet moved quickly as though they were on a deadline, the crowds parted to allow passage and then silently consumed every trace.
Despite the split second encounter, he knew he'd regret not seeing her face. A cloud had passed over his sun, unless he rectified it immediately the chill would surely seep into his night.
Without drawing attention to his objective, Steve shifted the conversation with his friend around to face her rapidly cooling trail. There was plenty of colour, many attractive legs and a few classy heels but none that fitted the memory she had burned.
Steve’s friend had started a long slow topic, he had a full drink, there appeared few excuses that would suffice to escape a normally comfortable place. Then came Mark, Steve grabbed the opportunity he presented literally with both hands, pulled him in and introduced him to Georgia. Both recently single, both having an intense interest in stuff, Steve knew Georgia would understand and appreciate their own rather less affectionate conversation could wait.
Having planted a seedling between them, Steve excused himself to allow them to germinate it alone and went in search of the white light. His mind was open to any possibility, split second glimpses are often best left that way. The betrayal of a first impression can be hard to accept but then living with the regret of not knowing can at times be equally if not more damning.
Almost rushing past excluded bodies in an attempt to catch a thread of her afterglow, apologising for imaginary spillage’s and thanking happy strangers for anticipating his need. He broke out of the mad throng into an unexpectedly wide open space, immediately he felt vulnerable. Directly in front of him three metres ahead and standing alone was the skirt that had caught his attention. Standing side on she didn't appear to have noticed his embarrassing escape from the mob.
Nowhere to hide to observe her, Steve’s legs refused to move, his eyes too busy collecting dimensions before his imagination took over. Her body swayed seductively in time to the music as she watched the ocean crash onto the shore, the dim flicker of lights on the horizon adding the final touches to this movie scene.
Walking behind but retaining the same distance he realised why the crowd ended abruptly, the compressed sand of the summer club ended and walking in the soft loose crystals was tricky. Away from the crowd the night became more noticeable, the stars winked their good-byes to an aging orange sun as it traded places with a spritly blue moon.
What could he say without seeming cheap, how could he just talk without her thinking he was making a pass, could he simply walk away without offering a smile. No, it didn't matter what he said as long as he didn't pinch her bum, she was just another person and even if she had a distinctive accent or a broken face, passing the time of day or night didn't mean they were joined for life. Not to smile however would be a regret, the hovering shadow would return and engulf him; the moment would be lost forever.
Steve approached her from the dark side, his best side in many eyes, he was about to speak, say something profound about the simple pleasures a clear night can give when he noticed the sparkle on your cheeks. Your eyes glistened in the moon’s rays and he realised she had been crying.
A lump formed in his throat, the fresh alcohol induced inappropriate thoughts of the sexual pleasures her body might hold embarrassing him once again. He took a deep breath, adjusted his words and asked 'Are you okay?'
Despite the split second encounter, he knew he'd regret not seeing her face. A cloud had passed over his sun, unless he rectified it immediately the chill would surely seep into his night.
Without drawing attention to his objective, Steve shifted the conversation with his friend around to face her rapidly cooling trail. There was plenty of colour, many attractive legs and a few classy heels but none that fitted the memory she had burned.
Steve’s friend had started a long slow topic, he had a full drink, there appeared few excuses that would suffice to escape a normally comfortable place. Then came Mark, Steve grabbed the opportunity he presented literally with both hands, pulled him in and introduced him to Georgia. Both recently single, both having an intense interest in stuff, Steve knew Georgia would understand and appreciate their own rather less affectionate conversation could wait.
Having planted a seedling between them, Steve excused himself to allow them to germinate it alone and went in search of the white light. His mind was open to any possibility, split second glimpses are often best left that way. The betrayal of a first impression can be hard to accept but then living with the regret of not knowing can at times be equally if not more damning.
Almost rushing past excluded bodies in an attempt to catch a thread of her afterglow, apologising for imaginary spillage’s and thanking happy strangers for anticipating his need. He broke out of the mad throng into an unexpectedly wide open space, immediately he felt vulnerable. Directly in front of him three metres ahead and standing alone was the skirt that had caught his attention. Standing side on she didn't appear to have noticed his embarrassing escape from the mob.
Nowhere to hide to observe her, Steve’s legs refused to move, his eyes too busy collecting dimensions before his imagination took over. Her body swayed seductively in time to the music as she watched the ocean crash onto the shore, the dim flicker of lights on the horizon adding the final touches to this movie scene.
Walking behind but retaining the same distance he realised why the crowd ended abruptly, the compressed sand of the summer club ended and walking in the soft loose crystals was tricky. Away from the crowd the night became more noticeable, the stars winked their good-byes to an aging orange sun as it traded places with a spritly blue moon.
What could he say without seeming cheap, how could he just talk without her thinking he was making a pass, could he simply walk away without offering a smile. No, it didn't matter what he said as long as he didn't pinch her bum, she was just another person and even if she had a distinctive accent or a broken face, passing the time of day or night didn't mean they were joined for life. Not to smile however would be a regret, the hovering shadow would return and engulf him; the moment would be lost forever.
Steve approached her from the dark side, his best side in many eyes, he was about to speak, say something profound about the simple pleasures a clear night can give when he noticed the sparkle on your cheeks. Your eyes glistened in the moon’s rays and he realised she had been crying.
A lump formed in his throat, the fresh alcohol induced inappropriate thoughts of the sexual pleasures her body might hold embarrassing him once again. He took a deep breath, adjusted his words and asked 'Are you okay?'
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