On the beach, part one

It was dark. Other than an old security guard named Floyd, we were alone. We walked on the bridge that led to the sand. The rhythmic sound of the waves hitting the shore was all we could hear. We kicked off our shoes, confident that no one would steal them, at the end of the bridge. The sand was chilly even though it was warm in the night. I would compare the consistency to sugar. The stars were out, although not as prominent as you would expect far from a big city. Looking back at the building, we saw less than half a dozen lights on in the twelve floors.

We walked to the edge of the water. The waves nearly got us. It must have been high tide. We stood still and looked out at infinity. That’s what the water looks like. Like it goes on forever. People who thought the world was flat never made it to the ocean.

We turned and kissed. It was a moment we’d remember for a while, and it would have to do for nearly a year. We passed the wooden benches that during the day sported blue cushions and umbrellas. We didn’t see the spot where our tent was.
Walking back over the bridge, we didn’t see Floyd. We opened the gate and found the elevators. It was 4:30 in the morning, and it was time to go home.

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