Another clichéd story about circumstance.

Sheri Walter 1.0

Hiii! So first book. First chapter. Kiiinda tensed.

Song I was listening to when writing this: High by the Beach (Lana)

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Sheri's POV

'The waves crash into the rocks.
They retreat.
The waves refuse to be discouraged, and repeat the action. Again, and again."

The sea is calm.

As I sit on the edge of the overhang,notebook in hand, trying to scribble my way to mental stability,I realize that I'm a mess.I haven't looked into a mirror in the last five days,changed, combed my hair, or even touched my camera.But there's this one thing that I've been doing continually, that's been taking up all my time: procrastinating. And thinking of the 'what if's and 'if only's that concern the last conversation I had with my mother.

I let out a sigh, before switching on my phone after six long nights.

No missed calls.

Really,my parents need to write a book on parental duties. I dial Mum's number anyway,immediately regretting my decision.

'Hey, mum?'

'Sheri.'

'Look I'm sorry about, y'know, whatever happened on Friday. I was upset. I'm sorry.'

'Oh, sweety, it doesn't matter. So Columbia, is it?'

'Yes.English Literature.'

'So Floyd DID help you get it?'

'It was a one-to-one interview.He didn't, like, appear for me, did he?'

'But he helped with the prep.'

'Actually-yeah, never mind. He did.'

'Sher, why is it so hard for you to accept your brother's contribution in any part of your life?You weren't always this ungrateful-'

'You know what? Bye.' I cut her off,biting my lip. Nope.Not working.

Within a few minutes , I receive a text from the better Walter kid.

'You don't fucking know how much you upset mum.She skipped Tea, because of you. Tell her you're sorry.' Always the good son, Floyd.

'Yeah, I'm good. How's dad?' I reply, rolling my eyes as I type.

'Upset.' The message comes after a whole forty-five minutes of deliberation over my father's mood.

'You know what? She's right. The trip is more important than driving me to New York. '

'Just fucking get your shit together, and give mum a call. She's expecting one .'

'I'll be in Jersey by six in the evening tomorrow. '

He doesn't reply. So I just end up drifting into another period of analyzing life. Festive mood, they call it. So much so for the twenty fourth of December.

I see a lighthouse in the distance, shimmering in Christmas colours.
I smile. The feeling of restlessness that had been building up in me suddenly clears, and I pick up my camera, dusting off the sand.

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