She wandered in circles, outside of her father’s harbourside apartment, under the gloom of August rain. Her eyes were fixated on the moored boats as they trembled on unsteady surfaces. The tides rushed against the piers, in moods erratic, rising and subsiding with aggressive disparity. She tasted salt on the air, it claimed her lungs.
Her dark, navy raincoat kept the weather from her bones, but the breeze marked her exposed face with traces of ocean frost. Harsh yet delicate as fading ember sparks. She reached outwards every so often, as if to catch the fragments of windswept cold; they passed through the gaps between her fingers regardless, so she resigned her hands to empty pockets. The sharp, pale evening would soon numb against her skin.
Hours filled the minutes, wordless thoughts filled her mind. She imagined freezing in place by the doorway; to become a statue greeting all that passed by with a worn, apathetic gaze. She expected a sinking despair to take over, yet it never seemed to occur. The question of what was meant to be felt overwhelmed her mind, and the answer would never arrive.
So she continued to stare, soundlessly, at the drunken, dancing vessels that moved with the anxious waves. The colour blue came to mind, it reflected and blurred with red along the water’s edge. A sullen siren sung over the grey. A dull voice murmured outside the haze of her vision. A hand fell softly on her shoulder. She did not speak, she just opened the door.