Wet sand.
Crying gulls.
Fading daylight.

Eric’s hand is intertwined in my left, a generous pour of sauvignon blanc in my right. I gulp in the salty wind and sweet wine in equal measure. The beach is deserted; the world is wonderful.

And then–
Suddenly–

My love abruptly disentangles his five fingers to more wildly gesticulate, shouting to be heard above the waves. Alarmed, I followed his gaze, eyes frantically searching the horizon.

We are no longer alone on the beach.

My body is quicker than my brain. Immediately my legs engage. Wine sloshes up and over the rim of my glass as my arms pump forward, synchronized to the steps of my sprint. The chase narrows my focus, quickens my pace. Eric is no longer beside me, his path diverged, our impulses selfish, from the moment we spotted the dark, solitary figure haunting the dunes ahead.

The gap between us is closing. I will my body forward–faster. Dressed in black, top to bottom, he’s now close enough to make out his features. The whites of his eyes are yellow. I can see the sinister set of his shoulders as he poises for an attack.

He holds my gaze for two beats.
Three.
I try to control my breathing as my heart beats madly on.
Four.

“ERIC! TH-TH-THE PENGUIN! HE’S–PENGUIN!”

And the trance is broken.
The bird, shuffling his stunted limbs through the last stretch of sand, breaks his gaze, waddles behind the dunes, and disappears.

“DID YOU SEE?! THAT THING WAS ACTUALLY KIND OF NASTY. BUT, SHIT! A PENGUIN!”

NZ bucket list CHECK!

-K

^ No penguin pics, but this was a self portrait taken on THEE beach. THE PENGUIN BEACH, yah-yuh.

^ Take two. Here’s to three months with no make-up. Yippeeeeee!