Pacific

Judith walked upon the empty shoreline. The rush of waves clamored like the roar of traffic on a highway overpass. The malleable cream-colored sand powdered the soles of her bare feet. The high noon sun coated the water in a blinding cascade of shimmering light and a cool breeze made her clasp her yellow sweater closer to her body. The brightness of the sand kept her from gazing too long at the ground. She looked up into the distance and gazed longingly at the space between where the sky and emerald waves met in the Rothkoesque[1] horizon. She took a deep breath and inhaled the shore, sea, and sun. The colossal waves formed far, came in, and coated the rabid shore thick with foam. The dense sea air pressed itself against her rough, chapped lips. She licked them and savored the sweet, salty oceanic kisses. She had never seen the Pacific Ocean before.


[1] Mark Rothko (1903-1970) – Russian-American abstract expressionist painter.

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