A slight breeze shakes strands of my hair loose from the tight grips of the hair bow and my ruffled bikini top dances with them. A small dribble of ice cream leaks down the flaky cone. The air is alive and full of buzz as people chatter and laugh on the pier. Down the boardwalk, a man and his son reel in a massive pink snapper. People stand around them, watching intently with eyes full of curiosity. The wind blows with more ferocity and purpose as I savor the smooth strawberry ice cream. My taste buds are wired and the frozen milk and sugar easily slides down my throat. The sun slowly begins to slip beneath the waves, like a fair maiden tired of waiting for her sailor to come home. The ball of fire is replaced with thousands of tiny, twinkling stars. People abandon the pier, and I am left alone with only the occasional seagull and my thoughts. I sit and wait for hours, a few dark clouds move in, choking the luminescent stars with their ghostly mass. I gently rest my head against a cold wooden bench. The sky opens up and thousands of tears fall from the heavens. I lay with my head up so I can feel the water spraying my face. Trudging through the heavy rain, a dark figure appears, seemingly out of thin air. An empty Ferris wheel silently spins, blown by the forceful wind, as the shadowy body approaches me. Though startling, this boy has given me no reason to fear him. I pick my soaking wet body up from the bench, comb through my wet hair, and stand before him. The moon is full and sickly pale; he wriggles his hand into mine, and together we walk through the pouring rain.
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My foot presses against the gas pedal, making the speedometer rise. The sky is scarcely dotted with white wisps of clouds, and the Miami sun is a brilliant peach. Glass buildings seem to be miles high, glittering as the sun bounces off the crystal structures. It’s been awhile since I traveled these highways, lined with thick, coconut-bearing palm trees. My short brown hair flaps to the beat of the breeze. My sleek black Corvette whips into the parking lot facing the beach. Before I dare greet the beach-goers or the sandy waves, my body leads me to a nearby consignment shop. Inside, a blast of cool air conditioning snakes down my white t-shirt, following the path of my spine. I sneak into the dressing room with a mound of black clothes, nestling them like a frail, light newborn baby. I slide the worn metal bolt and silently peel my old clothes off, then shove them into the corner of the tiny closet. In the back of the store there’s a door, I walk calmly to the wooden door, then sprint like an Olympic runner. Suddenly, my bare feet reach hot sand and sweat pools under my arms. I check my watch and realize I have a few hours before I meet up with her. My gait is slightly relaxes once I realize no angry shop owner, questioning police officers or their fierce canines are heading my direction. The moon rises after a few hours of just lying on a park bench, and I quickly race to the pier. Rain falls heavy on my shoulders. A nearby Ferris wheel groans and turns with the wind. I weave my way through abandoned food stands and benches. She stands, I guide her hand into mine, and together we walk through the pouring rain.
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Works Cited: Curated Quotes. 100 Best Love Quotes…Ever, 2014. Web. 17 April, 2014.