The sun rose slowly, letting the beach bathe in its pink glow for a long
while. The foamy waves lapped softly at the shore, gently rearranging the
sand particles beneath them. The small fishing boat sitting beside the
short pier could barely be made out in the dim morning light. A medium-
sized brown cottage sat on the beach near the pier, accompanied by an
abandoned fast-food restaurant. Empty crates sat at the far end of the
beach, inhabited by dozing hermit crabs and some small insects.
Greg stepped out of his seaside cottage, fishing pole in hand, and headed for the pier in the hazy light. He loved the tranquil setting of the beach in the early morning light, and would always wake up early in order to watch the sun rise as he fished. On stormy days, he would wake at sunrise anyway just to watch the raindrops join the ocean in a blissful reunion.
Greg liked the beach's quiet setting. It was only loud when the owner of the restaurant came down for the summer. Even then it was relatively calm. The young man who ran it was always quiet out of respect for Greg. The old fisherman would bring the man some of the fish he caught as a trade-off for the serenity he enjoyed, and the man never broke his promise. The only time Greg's peace was disturbed during the summer was during the night, when the young man brought his girlfriend over. They weren't obscenely loud, but Greg was very sensitive to sound.
When he wasn't fishing, Greg spent his time reminiscing. He enjoyed the morning's solitude with his rod and scaly companions, but he liked to be indoors when there was a chance of people dropping by. He shared his cottage with a man named Zack, who was only in the house long enough to sleep. They both had very few possessions, but the house seemed cluttered nonetheless. Zack enjoyed strewing his things about the house, and he was never home long enough to clean anything up. Greg, on the other hand, had all of his things stowed neatly in a small box in the corner. The box held all that was left of the life he had left behind.
He felt a tug on his line, and reeled in his catch. The end of the hook held a wriggling fish, brown in color and of a normal size. Greg took a rock and slammed it down mechanically on the fish's head, stilling it. He removed the hook from its mouth and secured it in the small icebox beside him. Casting his line again, Greg settled back into calmness.
He'd been fishing for so long that he never had to think about what he was doing, which pleased him. Most people dreaded old age, but Greg rather enjoyed it. He didn't do much other than fish, and didn't have to keep his mind on anything in particular for long period of time. His mind wandered constantly, and Greg loved it. Any bad memories that popped into his head would soon be replaced by something else, which was just what he needed sometimes.
The sun continued to rise, going behind Greg's head and taking away its pink glow. He reached his brown, wrinkled hands to the back of his head, removing his hat from his curly white hair. He'd realized that he was the only member of a minority in Mineral Town, but he'd never thought much of it. He wasn't sure if anyone in the town was racist or not, since he tended to shy away from socializing. The only other person he knew of in the village that was close to his skin color was the young man who came during the summers, and he was just very tan. The only people Greg had to worry about were those that lived on the beach, and he knew that neither of them was hateful of different skin pigments. He'd never understood why anyone was like that, but eventually came to accept it as a fact of life. Some people were just ignorant, and it couldn't be helped.
He heard a door swing open, and turned around. Zack was leaving the cottage to do his daily rounds. He waved to Greg, who smiled in response. In the years since he'd moved to the Mineral Town beach, Greg had gotten to know his roommate very well. Zack was a tall, well-built man with dark brown hair and some intense muscles. Most of the villagers viewed Zack as an imposing figure, but Greg saw him as the son he was missing in his mostly happy life in Mineral Town.
Zack's leaving the cottage was the signal for the busy portion of the day to start. Greg reeled in his line and picked up his icebox, containing the one lone fish. He sighed. Some days just weren't good for fishing. He pulled the box and his rod into the house and shut the door behind him. After scaling the fish and washing his hands well, Zack sat slowly down on his mattress, enjoying the feeling of the springy mass beneath him.
He looked around the familiar cottage and noticed his little box, lying alone in the corner. Greg slowly picked himself up off the bed, feeling his joints creak. He frowned. Old age may be good for forgetting, but it didn't help the body out too much. Still, he should be grateful; one of the older villagers in Mineral Town couldn't even walk. Greg reached down and removed the top of the wooden crate, leaving his fingerprints in the dust. He reached his hand into the crate, pulling out an old photograph book. Placing the book on his bed, Greg arranged himself into a comfortable position and flipped open the cover.
The first page greeted him with an old black-and-white photo of a dark young man and woman. The man had springy black curls that slightly stood out from his head, and wore a checkered shirt that was tucked neatly into his pants. The woman had the same corkscrew curls as the man, but hers fell down to her shoulders and were covered by a sun hat. She had on her Sunday best, a formal dress with matching heels. The heels were very small, and gave her little more height than she already had, as was the style in the late 50's.
The picture flooded Greg with memories of the day, and he allowed them in, enjoying the warmth of them.
***
Candice stomped the ground impatiently. "C'mon, Greg!" she called. "I want us to have our picture taken!"
The young man ran his fingers through his hair while looking at his reflection in a window, trying to make it stand up more. "Hold up, Candy," he said. "I'm almost done."
The girl rolled her eyes. "If it gets any bigger, it'll eat someone. Come on! The picture guy's getting bored."
Greg shot a glance at the "picture guy," his friend Charlie. The man did indeed seem to be bored, and was staring wistfully at the rear of one of the passing women. Greg smirked, and, giving his hair a last pull, he headed over to his girlfriend.
"Ready," he said, sliding his arm around her waist.
"About time," she replied, slapping his arm away. "This is supposed to be a formal picture, Greg. No fondling."
A bright flash temporarily blinded him. When his vision returned, Charlie was handing the camera back to him. "See ya after Mass, Greg!" said his friend, and headed toward the church.
Candice took Greg's hand and started to pull him toward the building as well, but Greg playfully slapped her hand away. "This is supposed to be a formal day, Candy," he said in a mock high-pitched voice. "No fondling!" Candice rolled her eyes and dragged him to the church.
After the service, as the sun was setting in the sky, Greg took Candice on a long walk down to the small nearby river. He sat on the banks, spreading his jacket on the ground for her to sit on.
"Is this your fishing spot?" asked Candice, taking a seat on the outspread jacket. Greg nodded. "What's the occasion?"
The young man idly tossed a pebbled into the water, watching as it languidly traveled downstream. He looked over at his girlfriend and studied her face. Her big brown eyes were watching him, waiting for his response. He moved his hand over hers and caressed it. They had been together for over two years now, and he was definitely ready for something more. He didn't want to wait any longer - he was already twenty-three, and wasn't getting any younger. Tonight was the night he would pop the question.
"Candy," he began, "have you ever thought of what you wanted to do for the rest of your life?"
Candice looked at him in a calculating manner, as if trying to read his mind. Then she smiled. "Well, I always thought I'd end up married to a handsome guy, with a couple of kids and a little house with a white picket fence. That is, unless you had something else in mind."
Greg smiled back at her. "Nope. I'd always counted on much the same thing, but married to a pretty woman, of course." He looked away and gave her a sideways glance, smirking. "I wonder where I could find a pretty woman..."
Candice smacked his arm playfully. "You think that's hard? Imagine trying to find a man that doesn't have hair the size of Texas."
He laughed, patting his small afro affectionately. "What, you don't like it?" he asked with a tone of mock offense. Then he looked deeply into her eyes with a serious expression on his face.
"You want to know what big hair is good for?" Greg asked, reaching to the back of his head. He pretended to search in his tuft of hair, and then reached down further and took out a small box that he had hidden in the collar of his shirt. He opened it and held it out to her, revealing a little ring with a sparkling jewel in the middle.
"Candy, will you marry me?" he said.
Candice looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "Oh, Greg," she said, choking on her words, "of course I will." She looked again at the ring, and back at him. "I love you so much!"
"I love you too, Candy. I'll love you forever."
Greg stepped out of his seaside cottage, fishing pole in hand, and headed for the pier in the hazy light. He loved the tranquil setting of the beach in the early morning light, and would always wake up early in order to watch the sun rise as he fished. On stormy days, he would wake at sunrise anyway just to watch the raindrops join the ocean in a blissful reunion.
Greg liked the beach's quiet setting. It was only loud when the owner of the restaurant came down for the summer. Even then it was relatively calm. The young man who ran it was always quiet out of respect for Greg. The old fisherman would bring the man some of the fish he caught as a trade-off for the serenity he enjoyed, and the man never broke his promise. The only time Greg's peace was disturbed during the summer was during the night, when the young man brought his girlfriend over. They weren't obscenely loud, but Greg was very sensitive to sound.
When he wasn't fishing, Greg spent his time reminiscing. He enjoyed the morning's solitude with his rod and scaly companions, but he liked to be indoors when there was a chance of people dropping by. He shared his cottage with a man named Zack, who was only in the house long enough to sleep. They both had very few possessions, but the house seemed cluttered nonetheless. Zack enjoyed strewing his things about the house, and he was never home long enough to clean anything up. Greg, on the other hand, had all of his things stowed neatly in a small box in the corner. The box held all that was left of the life he had left behind.
He felt a tug on his line, and reeled in his catch. The end of the hook held a wriggling fish, brown in color and of a normal size. Greg took a rock and slammed it down mechanically on the fish's head, stilling it. He removed the hook from its mouth and secured it in the small icebox beside him. Casting his line again, Greg settled back into calmness.
He'd been fishing for so long that he never had to think about what he was doing, which pleased him. Most people dreaded old age, but Greg rather enjoyed it. He didn't do much other than fish, and didn't have to keep his mind on anything in particular for long period of time. His mind wandered constantly, and Greg loved it. Any bad memories that popped into his head would soon be replaced by something else, which was just what he needed sometimes.
The sun continued to rise, going behind Greg's head and taking away its pink glow. He reached his brown, wrinkled hands to the back of his head, removing his hat from his curly white hair. He'd realized that he was the only member of a minority in Mineral Town, but he'd never thought much of it. He wasn't sure if anyone in the town was racist or not, since he tended to shy away from socializing. The only other person he knew of in the village that was close to his skin color was the young man who came during the summers, and he was just very tan. The only people Greg had to worry about were those that lived on the beach, and he knew that neither of them was hateful of different skin pigments. He'd never understood why anyone was like that, but eventually came to accept it as a fact of life. Some people were just ignorant, and it couldn't be helped.
He heard a door swing open, and turned around. Zack was leaving the cottage to do his daily rounds. He waved to Greg, who smiled in response. In the years since he'd moved to the Mineral Town beach, Greg had gotten to know his roommate very well. Zack was a tall, well-built man with dark brown hair and some intense muscles. Most of the villagers viewed Zack as an imposing figure, but Greg saw him as the son he was missing in his mostly happy life in Mineral Town.
Zack's leaving the cottage was the signal for the busy portion of the day to start. Greg reeled in his line and picked up his icebox, containing the one lone fish. He sighed. Some days just weren't good for fishing. He pulled the box and his rod into the house and shut the door behind him. After scaling the fish and washing his hands well, Zack sat slowly down on his mattress, enjoying the feeling of the springy mass beneath him.
He looked around the familiar cottage and noticed his little box, lying alone in the corner. Greg slowly picked himself up off the bed, feeling his joints creak. He frowned. Old age may be good for forgetting, but it didn't help the body out too much. Still, he should be grateful; one of the older villagers in Mineral Town couldn't even walk. Greg reached down and removed the top of the wooden crate, leaving his fingerprints in the dust. He reached his hand into the crate, pulling out an old photograph book. Placing the book on his bed, Greg arranged himself into a comfortable position and flipped open the cover.
The first page greeted him with an old black-and-white photo of a dark young man and woman. The man had springy black curls that slightly stood out from his head, and wore a checkered shirt that was tucked neatly into his pants. The woman had the same corkscrew curls as the man, but hers fell down to her shoulders and were covered by a sun hat. She had on her Sunday best, a formal dress with matching heels. The heels were very small, and gave her little more height than she already had, as was the style in the late 50's.
The picture flooded Greg with memories of the day, and he allowed them in, enjoying the warmth of them.
***
Candice stomped the ground impatiently. "C'mon, Greg!" she called. "I want us to have our picture taken!"
The young man ran his fingers through his hair while looking at his reflection in a window, trying to make it stand up more. "Hold up, Candy," he said. "I'm almost done."
The girl rolled her eyes. "If it gets any bigger, it'll eat someone. Come on! The picture guy's getting bored."
Greg shot a glance at the "picture guy," his friend Charlie. The man did indeed seem to be bored, and was staring wistfully at the rear of one of the passing women. Greg smirked, and, giving his hair a last pull, he headed over to his girlfriend.
"Ready," he said, sliding his arm around her waist.
"About time," she replied, slapping his arm away. "This is supposed to be a formal picture, Greg. No fondling."
A bright flash temporarily blinded him. When his vision returned, Charlie was handing the camera back to him. "See ya after Mass, Greg!" said his friend, and headed toward the church.
Candice took Greg's hand and started to pull him toward the building as well, but Greg playfully slapped her hand away. "This is supposed to be a formal day, Candy," he said in a mock high-pitched voice. "No fondling!" Candice rolled her eyes and dragged him to the church.
After the service, as the sun was setting in the sky, Greg took Candice on a long walk down to the small nearby river. He sat on the banks, spreading his jacket on the ground for her to sit on.
"Is this your fishing spot?" asked Candice, taking a seat on the outspread jacket. Greg nodded. "What's the occasion?"
The young man idly tossed a pebbled into the water, watching as it languidly traveled downstream. He looked over at his girlfriend and studied her face. Her big brown eyes were watching him, waiting for his response. He moved his hand over hers and caressed it. They had been together for over two years now, and he was definitely ready for something more. He didn't want to wait any longer - he was already twenty-three, and wasn't getting any younger. Tonight was the night he would pop the question.
"Candy," he began, "have you ever thought of what you wanted to do for the rest of your life?"
Candice looked at him in a calculating manner, as if trying to read his mind. Then she smiled. "Well, I always thought I'd end up married to a handsome guy, with a couple of kids and a little house with a white picket fence. That is, unless you had something else in mind."
Greg smiled back at her. "Nope. I'd always counted on much the same thing, but married to a pretty woman, of course." He looked away and gave her a sideways glance, smirking. "I wonder where I could find a pretty woman..."
Candice smacked his arm playfully. "You think that's hard? Imagine trying to find a man that doesn't have hair the size of Texas."
He laughed, patting his small afro affectionately. "What, you don't like it?" he asked with a tone of mock offense. Then he looked deeply into her eyes with a serious expression on his face.
"You want to know what big hair is good for?" Greg asked, reaching to the back of his head. He pretended to search in his tuft of hair, and then reached down further and took out a small box that he had hidden in the collar of his shirt. He opened it and held it out to her, revealing a little ring with a sparkling jewel in the middle.
"Candy, will you marry me?" he said.
Candice looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "Oh, Greg," she said, choking on her words, "of course I will." She looked again at the ring, and back at him. "I love you so much!"
"I love you too, Candy. I'll love you forever."