2015-11-27 the Sea Is Green

by Matt Triewly

The sea is green this morning. Green with a hint of yellow. Or rather it appears a little yellow to me. Perhaps others may not see it that way. Perception is subjective.

The water is a little rough too. Choppy.

I feel quite warm, behind the glass with a cup of milky and sweet tea in front of me.

I look up and out through the window again. A long wispy ribbon of grey cloud hangs low across the far shore. It will rain soon. No blue sky today.

I pour myself another cup of tea. Plenty of milk and plenty of sugar. I stir it well. Leave the spoon in.

I am by myself and flirting with loneliness, kind of indulging it in an emotionally masochistic way...

Suddenly the awful coldness and desolation of it engulfs me like a window violently blow open by a storm. I shudder. I guess I should have expected that, fucking with my head.

Then I recall 'her' telling me that she had been single for seven years, wondering if she would ever meet anyone again, and how she had cried in the bath once because she was so lonely. I had visualised her at the time naked in the soapy water with her legs drawn up and her arms pulling them close to her body. I saw her with her head bowed and not noticing or caring that the curly ends of her long chestnut brown hair were touching the surface of the now tepid water. I imagined her sniffling, her eyes red, and it made me sad at the time. It kind of makes me feel sad now. Yet I had vowed back then, all those years ago, that she would never feel alone again, that I would never leave her, that she would never cry in the bath again...

I broke my promise and broke two hearts. Mine. Hers.

Enough.

I drain the cup and peer outside. It's drizzling now. Raindrops are creating little ripples in the puddle on the tarmac outside and I reckon I'm going to get a little wet cycling on the way back. But I don't care.

I stand up and slip my coat on before threading the straps of my backpack through my arms. I stride to the door and pull it open. I then walk down the steps and over to my bike. As I do, I experience the cool light rain on my face. It feels good. Refreshing. Bracing.

I take my bike out from the rack, mount it and cycle off along the promenade resisting the urge to look back.

Sometimes it can be dangerous to look back.

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