Helloooo, once again in here to bring you Richonne. This is a small thing that just manifested. Enjoy!
She's never seen the man before. Tall enough, lean frame with his face losing the war to a scruffy beard. He had a head full of deep brown waves pushed back and grouping together into a forest of curls that brushed along his nape. For all intents and purposes he seemed every bit as rugged and abrasive as the majority of local fishermen she'd encountered; who lived by the sea, for the sea. Dressed like them too; worn flannel and washed out jeans over tattered boots. Yet there he was from her vantage point at one of the few wooden tables along the boardwalk rail, sidled up near a closed food shack, picking up what looked to be seashells from the shore.
She watched him dig his fingers into the wet soil and pull out glittering pieces of something and more shells. He would tuck what he'd scavenged into his pocket and move to a new area just a few feet over. Michonne was intrigued to say the least and continued to follow his movements. She was a frequent visitor to the small beach in the early hours seeking solace where a day's happenings didn't allow, when people were scarce and she could sit and let her mind roam or occupy it with books if she saw fit. Some days, like today, she'd bring her camera out with her in hopes of snapping a few scenic shots to quench this new phase of artistry she was going through.
His back was broad, strong and the lense focused on it like a trophy. She adjusted the zoom and settings to her liking, still not completely sure of herself yet but knowing what she liked and settled on the seashell harboring man. The light from the sun peeking over the horizon bathed him nicely and she took the shot; a few even. She moved slightly for different angles and hoped the shutter was drowned out by the waves enough for him not to catch her momentary obstruction of privacy. Not that she wasn't adept at weaseling her way out of such a court case, though she'd like to keep her reputation in the green.
She lowered her camera, an old but trusty model the clerk had said and she'd believed him enough to get it—it hadn't failed her yet. The sun was rising steadily and the man raised his head to watch the horizon for a minute before he stood. Michonne found herself wondering many things, One; what were the shells for? Two; where had he come from, would she see him again tomorrow? Three; could she get back home before Andre got beside himself with worry at her absence? The 7 year old was inquisitive, witty and adorable with big, brown doe eyes that matched her own but ever since his father passed away he'd been reasonably attached to her.
She stood from her spot and let the camera hang from her neck and grabbed the bag she'd brought. She glanced at the man once more and found herself wanting to know what he was thinking as he stared ahead but she shook her head, it was a fairly big town, they probably won't cross paths again and even if they did, she wouldn't speak to him. She walked away unaware that a pair of blue eyes finally chanced a glance behind him.
~~~~
He's seen her a few times. Usually at the same table on the boardwalk and he'd mostly be just out of her line of sight, trudging around in the tide pools looking for cool things to show his son Carl who had been stuck on bed rest after a particularly bad case of pneumonia but he was recovering nicely much to his relief. Being a single dad was never advertised as easy and there were times he felt the weight more than others but at the end of the day his son was his pride and joy that kept him going, especially after all of the drama that had settled in his life a year and a half prior. He'd found solace in the beach during the moments when doubt clouded his mind and the uncertainty of tomorrow plagued him guiltily but he always felt calm and eased by the water.
He'd first seen her on a particularly rough morning, waking up to nightmares and cold sweat and restlessness beyond what his body could keep up with. Carl was fond of the sea and what it had to offer, especially shells and whatever treasures could be found within the sand. He remembered long ago when Carl was still small and he'd taken him and his ex wife across the way to the adjoining islands an hour ride out and Carl had spent most of it digging about and excitedly showing him things he'd discovered. Now he was growing into himself; 8 years old and more into comics but sometimes he still brought him back his findings and he knew the boy appreciated it, kept them safe in a fancy box his mother had gotten him on his last birthday.
She had been sitting at the boardwalk table, a blip in his routine and the empty beach he normally traversed alone before the early fisherman claimed the harbor and their hollering singled the start of the day. Her slender back faced him and she was donned in a pretty blue dress that illuminated her dark skin and the awakening sun cast a glow mesmerizingly. She was roped into a book and he could only stare, her hair long and twisted, some of it pulled back and held with a pretty flower clip. He could only partially see her face but he could tell her beauty was astounding. He hadn't realized how long he'd been taking in the woman who planted herself in his serenity but he found himself wondering what it was that had her so entrapped, what was the book about? What was her name? Where had she come from? A lot surfaced in seconds but he looked away. She was only a stranger and their paths won't cross again, and even if they did he wouldn't talk to her.
But each time he came he saw her and each time he took her in, seeing more of her while keeping out of sight. There were days she would just stare off at the sea for the few hours she settled there before leaving and other times she would be reading or eating a snack. Her eyes were pretty and brown and her nose was elegant and strong and boy were her lips luscious and plush. He always continued his hunt for his son but he could never keep his eyes away for long. She had been late that morning and he had felt disappointment filter in his chest but he tempered it and got to digging around, losing himself in his own rhythm and thoughts. Time flew by and the top of the sun could be seen and he took a moment to admire it before he decided it was time to head back. He heard scuffling then and his body tensed and he turned around just in time to see her leave because of course he'd know those twisted tresses anywhere. He was tempted to go after her, ask her to come back but beyond that he had no plan.
So he just watched her go, a small smile coming to his lips at the thought of seeing her tomorrow because despite her tardiness, she still came. He scooped the shells in his pockets and began the journey back to his home feeling a bit better than when he had awoken that morning. Something about her soothed him and her presence was daunting but not overwhelming or cumbersome, it was like being lightly caressed with reassurance and he found himself becoming addicted. He knew nothing of her and she, him and yet they seemed connected in a way that had his heart warming a little.