The surf rushed high over the sand, the beach was quiet.
Joggers could be seen in the distance, their dogs at their side.
Lem stood at the porch banister, watching the sun rise. He never got tired of watching dawn turn to day, the grey melting into yellows and reds, that first purple glow that finally turned to blue.
It would be cloudy today, grey, the sky was already covered, but that would be in a few hours. He hardly needed to look now, he’d started sensing the weather again.
He waited until the sun was up, drinking from his cup, always white. He was into white again, everything was white in the house, the couches, the walls, the sheets. Not glaring, that worried the women. Creams were good, eggshell and beige. The only other colours were the plants, tall, fanning out in greens, and whatever paintings he could still look at.
Lem finished his cup, enjoying it to the last drop. It was good, he memorized that recipe and stocked up, he’d never gotten the ingredients here. He watched two joggers pass with their dogs, one after the other, both with plugs in their ears, the woman’s ponytail swaying to the rhythm of her run. Her dog was a large lab, it raced forward into the surf.
Lem watched the four, two humans, two canines, and remembered all the dogs he once had. He should get one again, it was always good having them around. He was into cats right now, though, and as if she knew, the young one came out, brushing along his shins. He picked her up and put her on the banister, feeling her purr under his hand.
He had three cats right now, all of them strays. They came cautiously, first inspecting the terrace, then the food he left out, then the others. Most went away again, but the three liked each other and stayed. Once he’d seen them around often enough he did everything that needed to be done, and now, every morning, at least one of them walked around his legs when he opened the doors to the terrace.
The young one had enough and jumped down, running back in. Lem followed her, sliding the doors closed. He went to the kitchen, started the dishwasher, and went upstairs.
The girl was still asleep.
He watched her, young limbs, young face, bright, healthy hair. She would sleep till ten, eleven. He watched her sleep a little longer, remembering all the others he could remember.
He sometimes wished they knew, but then there were enough who knew.
Lem turned and went to the bathroom, bright, spacious, facing the beach. The mirror said what it always said, that nothing had changed, that nothing would ever change. He traced the scar, a shadow now, hardly visible. You only saw it if you knew it was there.
*
© 2015 threegoodwords
 
three good words 