One Shots and Old Drafts

-1-

"It's beautiful..."

Her voice cracked. The woman gazed off to the blazing sun planning to retire. It was just like her, setting down to hide from the rest of the world.

She felt her husband's muscles tighten around her as the unforgiving breeze sent sand mid-air. His fingers brushed off the sand from her hair and rewrapped the blanket that almost flew away.

"Do you want to go home, sweetie?"

"Not yet, love. I want to watch the sun disappear below the shoreline."

He rubbed her arm and smiled. "As you wish."

"Stop it."

She whispered weakly after a few minutes of silence. Droplets touched her pale neck from behind and streamed down her shoulder.

He was crying again. Like he always does.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I won't do it again."

"You're never great at making promises."

He giggled. "But at least I kept one of them."

"Which is?"

"Marrying you."

She rested her head against his chest. Her lungs contracted as she tried to inhale as much air as she could. "This is relaxing, don't you think?"

"Mmh-hmm." His arms gently rocked her to a slow rhythm as she hummed a song. Her thin rose lips were sealed and vibrated to the tune. It was like how they spent the last ten years of marriage.

Singing along to a delightful made-up song.

"You know, this is my favorite song, out of all my father's creations," she said ten summers ago. "Before he left, this was the last song he ever sang. And it will be my last and only song as well."

"Why is that?" He laughed naively.

She shrugged and continued swinging on a tree branch. "I just know it. How about you?"

"Hmm?"

"What's your song?"

Her eyes met his. Eyes filled with genuine curiosity that reflected the blue sky above them. Suddenly, a second seemed longer than a minute as the wind gracefully danced with her brown curls.

"Hey?" He quickly jerked his head and threw a pebble into the water. "Uhh, I don't have one. I'm not a songwriter."

"Neither is my Dad, but he makes lovely music."

"What is he then?"

"A doctor."

She jumped off the tree before continuing. "Dad helps unstable people so they can find their golden road in life. We all have it, you know? That path leads to our finish line. Some just like to pretend they're blind and go off somewhere else."

'I could listen to her talk until midnight,' he thought. He's always been a listener, but it felt more of a chore. Listening to her voice, though, had no burden on his shoulders. He wasn't here because he had to. It's because he wanted to.

"But he went off his own path. So he had to leave." He shook his head back to reality and realized she was now staring at him.

"Were you listening?"

"Uhm, yes." No. He barely understood the last half. 'Why did I lie, dang it. She's probably turned off. I shouldn't have spaced out.'

A sense of relief came when she suddenly spoke. "Let's just change the topic. Heaven and hell. What are your thoughts?" His face lit up. No one ever asked him such a question. He had spent his life listening to people's opinions on both sides.