7
Familiar by Basil Picard
The subtle roar of small waves sounded behind me , a consistent song that I had grown used to after so long . Coarse sand surrounded my bare feet , and I inhaled deeply , taking in the cold scent of salty nothing . I turned around to face the waves and the wind that whipped every which way , pushing my hair back out of my face quite often . I grinned at my friend , who was crouched in the sand looking for shells . I took a seat next to her by the water and sighed as the cold , damp sand got all over my clothes . It didn ’ t matter ; I was smiling .
Every so often , she would hand me a shell and ask if I thought she could make it into a necklace . “ This one ?” she ’ d say , and I ’ d nod yes every time , knowing that she liked them enough to ask in the first place . A bird crooned behind us , a gentle reminder that the beach we escaped to was only that — a beach , a place common to all animals in the area , a place that couldn ’ t replace reality . Not that I wanted it to .
The dark clouds overhead rendered the beach empty so late in the day , and the lack of talking was comfortably uncomfortable . My friend had gone on for quite some time about new songs she had found or a new show she started , but eventually we exhausted our small talk cards and settled for silence . It was a loud lack of spoken noise , only hearing sounds we had no control over . A frigid drop of water would bounce off my legs every once in a while , and I couldn ’ t tell if it was from the ocean or if it had started raining . I don ’ t think I would ' ve minded either way . The never-changing jetty to my left , the empty lifeguard building behind us , it all felt so familiar .