He blinked once. Twice.
The distant call of the seagulls reached his ear, and he saw their unfamiliar forms hanging in the cloudless skies. The ocean waves lapped at bare ankles, the cool water sending chills up his spine. He involuntarily shuddered. A wooden dock sat to his right, the walkway extending over the waves, but no boat was moored. For a split second he wondered why he was here, on this beach, but then he realized that didn’t matter at all. The salt air, the cool water, the cry of seagulls, the sight of the wooden dock, was all peace. All paradise. A paradise that few reach.
As he basked in the sensations of the moment, a new sound added itself into the morning air. Barely perceptible, he thought he heard the soft shifting of sand as it was displaced. A light melody swept the air, familiar and unworldly. He felt a slight tremor, starting in his toes, sweeping through his legs, filling his lungs, shaking his hands. The anticipation in the air hung heavy. He turned his eyes to the voice, knowing yet unbelieving. Yet there she was.
The light blue dress, adorned with the white silk sash. The bare feet, toes in the sand. The dark brown hair, curled over one shoulder in an elegant train. The yellow rose in the left hand, accentuating the silver ring on her finger. The soft blue in her eyes. The blush in her cheek. Her fingertips. The open lips from which sprung the most beautiful of melodies; simple yet laced with the strength of an emotion and the tenderness of an idea.
He ran to her, and stopped a few steps short, overcome with emotion. He turned around, tears streaming down his cheeks in happiness. “Do you see?” He yelled to the clear sky. “This is the day I’ve been waiting for! She’s here! This is what You’ve meant to happen!” He laughed, clear and loud, and then turned back to her. The smile started on his lips, and ended on hers. He reached his hand up to her cheeks, but she wasn’t there.
She disappeared, leaving him to only scream at the empty sky, and wait for her return.
He heard not the cry of the gulls. He saw not the morning sky. He felt not the waves against his legs. The wooden dock went unnoticed. He was in hell.
** Curse overactive imaginations for torturing us so.
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