We're at the beach.
You're being buried alive.
I can't beleive what Chris is making us do for the money.
You look so helpless in the glass case.
Your proceline face is etched with fear.
I feel like getting you out.
Sand now topples over you.
Please be safe.
Before long bright yellow sand replaces the place where you used to be.
I remain at your side.
Always.
I hold the walkie talkie firmly in my hand.
We talk.
You ask why I have a fear of mimes.
That one day at the circus changed everything.
As I recall my story, my very fear turns up right in front of me.
I run.
I run from the white faced, mimiking person thretening to scare me.
It seems to work.
I jump off the dock, into the water.
I have conquered by fear, the mime now backing away at the risk of runny makeup.
I stand by Chris.
Something itches the back of my mind.
It won't go away.
What is it?
I watch Geoff being pelted with hail from a personalised raincloud.
When one word from the host sends me into complete and utter panic.
Bury.
I run as fast as my legs can take me.
Back to the beach.
My heart is pumping and my mind is racing with a thousand apologies.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
How could I leave you? You have been lingering in my mind since I stepped onto the dock.
I just hope that is enough.
My hand shovels as much sand as I can grab.
Layer by layer.
Sweat is now cascading down my forehead.
Slowly the sand dies away and I start to catch a glimpse of the glass.
My insides light up.
Then they are instantly dimmed.
By one look.
Yours.
Your face is angry.
No.
That is an understaement.
All of this time.
All of my efforts to get closer to you.
Shattered.
You may never trust me again.
I left you.
Buried.
Alive.
I'm sorry.
You throw the remote control at my head.
I don't feel the collision.
I am too distracted by the ire burning through your eyes.
Your gaze drills into me.
I feel so stupid.
I like you. Alot.
And how do I show it?
By leaving you buried alive on the beach.
Then again,
I am only one guy.
A guy with a guitar and a heart full of songs waiting to be written.
And now, as you storm off back to your cabin,
those songs will be written about the time I let you down.
I'm sorry.
Please forgive me.