Galway, Ireland (photo: Fum Bally on Unsplash)
He leaned on his elbows and watched, periodically checking the clock and the tide-chart that hung next to it. Any moment now.
The briny air tickled a sneeze out of him, and he debated whether he had time to go fetch a handkerchief or if he could just use his shirt. Laundry day would not be for another full week. The handkerchief won. He rushed back to the window, flushing with a combination of exertion and embarrassment.
It was sobering to be faced with his own obsession.
The waves hissed and brushed against the beach. The ocean sighed. The breeze picked up. It would rain tonight. He believed his bones.
Then he saw her, walking on the exposed strip of rock-spattered sand. Her head was down, searching. She held a plastic bucket in her hand. It had seen better days.
They both had.
She was his treasure in the sand.
For What Pegman Saw: Galway, Ireland
Na'ama Yehuda 
You do know how to weave a wonderful tale, Na’ama. This was beautiful.
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Oh, thank you my friend! 🙂 I’m so very pleased! 🙂
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I am a tad envious of people like you who can do this!
That said, I am lucky enough to read them so… 🙂
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Aww… we each have things that we do in ways that might flow more easily than for other – if it is even so – but I have to say, having read your things, that you have a style all your own that I am sure many would be envious of. Relatable and full of real-life feelings, whether it is about a real event or not. I’m lucky to read your stuff! 🙂 So we’re even! 🙂
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You do have a point.
Cheers to each of our voices! 🙂
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Amen Sistah! 🙂 And … I think it is probably exactly as it should be that we each have our voice! 🙂
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This is true. 🙂
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😊
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Wonderfully atmospheric. I was there with him, smelling the sea and the weed-wreathed rocks. Oh yes.
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Thank you Crispina! Those houses on the water evoke an old bell in my soul.
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Mmmm, indeed
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🙂
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