Kyle slipped through the unlit house with practiced precision, taking his accustomed place alone in the family room, the eternal Pacific below his only company. A storm was coming, Kyle could feel it.
The wind raced
in from the sea carrying cold steel rain and sleet. But even in a storm
the ocean calmed him as no drug ever did, brought him a relief no
therapy could offer. He let the sound of the surf wash over him,
cleansing his soul, carrying away sins real and imagined, carrying his
nightmare far out to
sea to sink into the eternal abyss, never to
bother him again. It was a pleasant thought, more of a mantra, really,
repeated night after night all these years.
Home by the Sea, from Walking the Edge by Curt Jeffreys
Available on Amazon