staring difference

The last visit was a long time ago, she imagined.

She was staring at the waves. It was a hectic week broken by the morning incident. The kid beside had a smart phone, belonging to his dad. The surrounding was oblivious, the kid randomly key-pressed perhaps enjoying the beeps, more than anything else. Thinking about what she would have been doing, she welcomed the break nevertheless. The soldier toy had a small but sharp gun, and every time he decided to knockout the other kids Joe, it hurt the fingers. The right hand was gently placed on her lap. Adjusting the locks behind her ear, she averted the sudden breeze threatening to throw light sand. The car was a few hundred yards away, the sun rays beaming on the shiny chassis from some distance.

Few miles away lay a couple of hundred flat buildings, numbered rather than named. The path way here leading to the ride-boats, somewhat into the sea, could sway anyone when the wind was strong. The wooden planks making the pathway covered the water bed, blinking from beneath. Not one of those days, when she decided to walk the line of the lake view.

The young girl was contemplating a lot, he thought. He himself was nothing short of reflective. An unexpected but forced break and he peeked on the past thoughts. He knew this, but continued to do so. The corporate plaza construction beams shone from a distance. Once in a while, the light reflected straight onto his face, calling out. The kid was playing with his somersault-dog, battery powered for acrobatics. As he oscillated with his toy, the stiff legged lunge saw him fall forward. He supported the fall with his right arm pivoted around the shoulder, but the wrist took the brunt, I believe. Thud! As he jerked off to get hold of the kid, his face had anguish and he sat back in pain. The kid got up, went back to his Lego bricks and was fine. He looked away at the waves, tilting slightly to the right.

The crowd was generally vociferous, except for the two beings, the gentleman thought. Or maybe three he wondered. Active to inert, had a very small transition, he thought. One moment, and the other moment, so much for a life twist. The light hit the silver on the medals. His Labrador was restless scrunching the sand, like the kid. Few moments ago, the gentleman was feeling a little suffocated, on his return, in his new home. The combat boots with the direct molded sole were shining. Anachronous he thought. There was no other option, except for getting used to the new place he thought. From being the right wing to none, the thoughts reflected.

She was not totally comfortable, the brisk knuckle and finger movements nagging and bothering her. She knew they won’t be agile today. The fingers hurt. The cut to the index and middle ones, were still raw under the aid.

The rotator cuff muscle was a little damaged. The ladder slid was accompanied by the small boulder making him land on his right shoulder, taking the whole weight of the body. A little too much, for the momentum.

The sun was on the way back. The gentleman was leaving, avoiding the sunken sun, sinking feeling. The winds fluctuated, sailing one of his sleeves, the usually taut ones. The vision of the mushroom still fresh in the eyes. He left, controlling the labrador single handedly.

The sun was set, and so were the three, to go. A day, a week and all days of work and not life were to be off.