The bright, dazzling blue of the sky told a lie; it was cold, colder than mid-December, but it was February already. Alone, a woman walked the length of the crooked, rough shore. Her dark, curling hair was tied back in a careless tail, leaving a single rippling strand swaying at the lift of her small, perfect chin. Her eyes were shielded by dark, sleek sunglasses, and a good thing that was. Behind the black lenses was a red, swollen face, the eyes of a woman who'd spent the last six months crying.
It wasn't like her -- to be weak. Nor was it like her to prance out into a public place, without so much as a dye job on her hair. But she hadn't been caught so far. Removing a hand from where it was, snugly tucked in her gray jacket, she absently untied her ponytail, letting it gently fall down her back and bounce on her shoulders. She stopped her steady, tired stroll to observe the bay's colorless waters. The beaches here were ugly, she thought to herself. It was not an uncommon thought, either, it occurred almost daily -- for the last week, she had come out here everyday, not entirely sure why.
The wind on her face was not a pleasant one, it carried the smells of the city: smog, garbage, exhaust. It also ferried the noises only a city can make to her ears. There were the car horns, the clicking and whirring of machinery, millions of voices, but most of all, the occasional cry of a gull, a relief to her ears, no matter how sharp and jarring. Presently, one of the large, white and gray seabirds caught her eye. It must have flown inland due to the cold. It swooped down to the gray, frothing surface of the expansive inlet of water, skimming the surface with its bright, scaled orange talons.
The bird propelled itself away from the water with a few powerful beats of its wings, claws hanging, without a fish to show for their troubles, uselessly beneath the gull's body. She sighed, lifting her shoulders with her chest as she breathed in and out. 'You'll find me when you need to,' she scoffed, remembering the words. It was a broken promise now, and in the cold, white air, it seemed anything but true. She looked down, feeling heat rise in her eyes, spilling onto her cheeks and splattering all over the dark plastic in front of her face.
What if I never find him? The thought was too much to bear, she swiped the glasses from her face and soaked up the tears that had welled in their shallow, curving lenses with her sleeve. Replacing them, she continued to stroll down the beach, thoughtfully kicking at sand and the little black rocks that littered the shore as she went. Where had he gone? Into the sunset.
The sunset was far away now. It was morning, and the sun was around its ten o'clock position. She would come here tonight, too, to watch the orange of the sun as it kissed the gray waves with a rare color, turning the open, dull bay into a sparkling sea of fire, striking up a remarkable contrast to the dark navy New York sky, always lit by the neon glow of the city. But now it was day, and everything was gray, drab, lackluster, washed out into a faded white by the sun, like an over exposed photo. If it weren't for the sunglasses, the bright white of the sand would have stung her eyes. She, of course, she realized with irony, was right at home here in black denim jeans and the gray, hooded jacket.
The beach was relatively empty, and every time the young, slender woman passed another being, her heart throbbed momentarily before she could realize that was not who she was searching for. No matter how much she told herself he would not be here, a strangle, deluded instinct inside her told her he would come back to this place. But why? He was so much better than an empty, abandoned sea shore in New York City.
She strained her eyes through the black veil of the glasses, hoping, wishing they would stumble across the tall, proud figure. The long, rough blonde hair. The square set of his jaw. One day she'd find him. Yesterday, she had waded, knee deep out into the icy water, unsure of herself. It had become a useless effort, searching for him. In the water. In the sky. He said he'd find her. And this, surely, she thought, was the place he would come back to.
Yet still, there was, with each day, week, and month a terrible sense of uneasiness growing within her. It made her heart beat faster, made her palms sweat profusely, as though she'd run a race. But that's what it is, is it not? Yes, Kate's life had been something of a race. And now the only thing that could end it had gone, and was nowhere to be found.
She sighed again, looking up to the sky. She seemed to have lost track of time, she thought without emotion. The sun spoke of noonday. There was nothing to do, anyway. Another wasted hour. Slowly, she began the walk back to her tiny, grungy apartment, nestled in a darkest corner of the city. A place no one would care to look. No less gray and empty than the waters of the bay.