We walked out the back door and down onto the beach. Ryan and I took off our flip flops and carried them. The sand felt warm on my feet. We walked toward the shoreline where the wet sand was easier to walk on. We headed towards Torrey Pines.
Ryan never talked just to fill space, so when he was silent it didn’t feel uncomfortable. After we walked a long way we sat in the sand and watched the waves and he told me more about Marcy. I scooped sand up slowly letting it run out of my hands onto my feet, burying them while I listened.
Lisa Loomis--(Casanova Cowboy--a novel) Available on Amazon