A N****e That Looked to the Sky

The little seaport town smell, a thick sludge of kelp and frothy ocean waves flooded my nostrils as I stepped out unto the cobblestone. It was a slightly dreary day but not that utterly dreadful dreary that makes one want to shut the door and crawl into bed, no, it was rather a subtle bleakness that could be heard in the dull cries of seagulls and streamed across the sky in grey wispy clouds. I turned to my left, the path marked down towards the shoreline was uneven. Shrugging, I wrapped a large, cotton scarf, its woolen tassels brushing up against my temples around my head and trudged down the rocks. I turned just for a moment, craning my head to peer over my shoulder. Nothing. Just a mere old woman rustling through her bag of groceries. I set my sights back on the water, the back of my heels had started to wear. A pang of some sorts welled up in the corner of my left n****e. I cupped a small hand against my chest and felt the point of pain, it was becoming more reoccurring, a constant reminder of what was yet to come. Doctor Henderson had said the lump was still benevolent but something inside me, whether it was my own doing or a seed of growing ill will planted by another told me this was not just an amicable bulge. I shook off the negative sentiments. This is why I had come here in the first place. 

Quickening my descension, I reached the end of the rocks, immediately feeling the cushion of sand beneath my feet. I never thought staring out at the ocean, smack center in the middle of the beach was a grand idea. All the mainstreamers did that. Not to mention those sporadic feces bombs dropped from the sky at record speed. I cringed at the thought. Scanning the scene, my eyes rested towards the end of the beach, where the wood curled into cylindrical coils and the water washed up pale blue. That could work. Romping through, I made my way over, my right hand still gently cupped under my left n****e. 

The sky was a lavish hue of pale pink and lavender, specked with blots of orange. I unraveled my head scarf and sprawled out generously. The day had gotten stale. Mornings were always a series of bathroom sprints, sugary cups of coffee and angry bosses. Middays were usually spent contemplating the bane of my trivial existence over a plate of leftovers. Then came dusk and all the noise began to fizzle out. In fact, the evening silence was the only comfort I clutched too. No expectations, no grand delusions or time spent staring out my window, yearning for a hole to creep out from the vastness and reveal the secrets of the universe. I mean, come on... if creation was a curtained show, it was most  definitely an improv act because all that people do is just stumble about and produce their own stage plays as they go. 

It dawned on me that life is humorously cruel. If something is too perfect, too good to be true, a deathly glorious ocean wave comes crashing down and washes it all away. All that’s left in its place is a mere memory, a tingly residual feeling that gives you a momentary awakening, but ultimately it fades, just like tide. 

So just like that I unfurled my hand from underneath my shirt, ignored the tiny sliver of pain that zig zagged through my chest and lifted my fully exposed n****e to gaze upon the gracious sky.