Disturbed Isolation

It was a strange place this. Fresh and new  in the morning from the wash of sea mist, which blanketed it once again in the evenings. Yet, before the sun hit noon it was as dry and dusty as an old man’s back.

Would she leave?

No, it was home. Its aloneness kept her safe from the hustle and bustle of the city she had fled. The waves were her companions, their crash and splurge of salty water ran over her toes and splashed up her ankles.

A grinding bumbling hum in the distance caused her heart to sink – a car… her peace disturbed.


(Thank you for the image —
P Gene-Duch)