Monday

So quiet as the sea mist lay over the sea and stretched across the sand. I could feel my hair curling in the dampness. Even the seagulls flapped noiselessly through the air. A solitary figure moved in and out of focus as they crossed the beach to the harbour walls.

The dogs ran, ears flapping, in and out of the sea that broke across future sand, joyfulness in their every stride. My eyes flickered across the shoreline searching out pretty shells or stones worn smooth from an eternity of rolling along the seabed. Faint splashes and out of the gloom a kayak, a steady rhythm maintained as he made his way to the beach.

In navy jacket and flat cap, stick in hand came an old man with his Yorkshire terrier. He sat on a concrete drain and looked out to sea as small and feisty the terrier protected his stick from enquiring snouts. Fishermen sat on chairs surrounded by ice boxes of provisions and bait. Rods stood tall, tension in the line as  the hook waited for its prey.

No distant horizon to stare at today. Moistly cocooned in the still mist the only way to look was inwards.

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