sea shells come and go, from one place to another. you lose them easily, and tend to find more beautiful ones as replacement. like many things in life.
love, opportunities, changes.
but not us.
take note: female reader
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•∞•
I kick off my blue-and-pink zigzagged flip flops, them falling clumsily into the sand.
I scan the sea- today it was wild, untamed, and beautifully free. There was no one on the beach- since it was late at night, and I was about to return to 145a for a good night's sleep.
I couldn't resist a quick walk to the beach.
I had flown here from my hometown, the busy Crocus, in a 3 hour long stuffy plane ride. There was a mother and a child beside me, and I was forced to sit by the aisle. That, with the flight attendant tripping over her heels and landing the champagne and orange juice she had in her hands all over my shirt.
I had wrapped my thin grey cardigan around me, and changed the second I got back my baggage. Hiding away in a bathroom, I had rinsed out the shirt.
A great start to a two months long vacation.
I was in desperate need of it- the first year at my job. It was fun, of course, but made me work hard deep into the night. My colleagues said it would get easier over the years, that newbies always would get the heavy load.
A year of zero breaks, zero vacations, and barely this thing called 'weekends', when my boss lovingly gave me a vacation.
Well, not really, but that's okay.
My toes sink into the hot sand, warming up the soles that desperately needed a break. Running around an airport is no joke.
The orange blazing sun was already setting- emitting brilliant coral pink across the sky, that slow faded into pink, purple, a sliver of indigo, and then it's usual navy blue.
In 8 weeks I will fly back to the dreary sky in Crocus.
I suddenly very much regretted working in my hometown. Laguna beach has no competition when it comes to views.
The thought reminded me of how I arrived.
•∞•
"Holy fuck, can someone please tell me where I can buy some fucking coffee?"
The cashier just shrugs, completely disinterested in the usual string of tourists. Because that's just what I was; a tourist.
"We have Jewels though," she says in a flat voice, waving her hand at the assortment of drinks in the cooling.
I groan, my fist becoming tighter around my wallet. I wanted to very thoroughly explain the differences between coffee and energy drinks to her, but there was no point. I resist the urge to give the lady the good ol' middle finger for her attitude. Second day into my vacation- and I'm not going to be dragged out of the airport by security.
If I got two words to describe the airport of Laguna Beach, it would be small and humid. My clothes stuck to my skin, and I was desperate for a shower in the rented house.
