There’s a gun in the dash of her 1968 Mustang. She drove 43 miles to this perfect place where she’s going to turn off the lights. She played among these rocks as a child. Life was easy. And perfect.
Her feet remembered the sand as it oozes through its toes. Things were easier back then. Why can’t they be easy like that again?
He’ll be sorry, she contemplates as she stands at the edge of the beach. A seagull gaws, a child giggles, the waves trickle like a warm bath. There are two things she can’t get out of her head: There’s this smell that she can’t identify and the thought of her dog Molly wondering why she was abandonned. The smell. It’s not the ocean or the salt. It’s peace. It’s God’s touch assuring her everything is going to be ok. She looks over the water and witnesses the sky as it lights fireworks of blues and oranges to celebrate nature’s grand love affair.
Then she notices it… the sunset’s lips settle on the ocean’s cheek.
Why hasn’t she been here for 25 years? It’s so wonderful. Molly would love it here.
Not today, she decides as she puts the gun back in the dash. Molly is waiting for her.
– Rick Nicholson