Waves.
That was the first clear thought to enter my mind. The sand cowering away from the sun, running frantically through the air. Clawing sharply at our faces, trying to cut its way into our skin to hide itself away. Trying to out-trick and manipulate its destiny into non-existence, of course the grains failed, the light touching their tiny forms and sending tiny rainbows all around, into her hair and reflected in her eyes, the color of waves, a deep blue that desired nothing more than to be green.
"I can't stand this fucking sand," she said, shaking her head to the left with a jerk that sent the sparkles sailing down her cleavage. "This heat. The goddamn sun." As she continued her list, the woman began to walk away from me, her tiny shorts and sweat-logged tanktop clinging to her every movement, taking in more of the shining grains. "This place, these rules, my hair-- God!" She ran her hands messily through the dark brown waves that nearly reached her waist, flowing freely in the sticky breeze. "I should just chop it all off." She inhaled tightly and exhaled through pursed lips to emit a loud squeak. "Fuck," she added.
I shook a bit of the sand out from my own clothing and stepped forward to stand beside her. "We'll get used to it. Our bodies will readjust to the new temperature. Even the sand will seem representative of home soon." I want to take her hand. I move closer to her still, looking at her, and my breath catches her hair, waving it lightly.
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