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Deja Vu

Motionless, her still body rocks slightly as the waves pound the shore pushing it back and forth. She has long black hair. Is she dead?

Dark gray hues fill the sky, rain is coming soon.

I continue fishing off the rocky dock.  Hungry, I pull out my half eaten peanut butter sandwich and devour it.  My soup went cold a long time ago, too hungry to care, I down it with two gulps. I wish it was whiskey.

I could have sipped it making it last longer, but that body makes me uneasy. Why now?

This is my time with the sea and sky.

I can make believe there is peace in this world.

A few hours of fishing with nature makes you believe anything is possible. How can it be so beautiful out here, yet, in there, it’s so horrible.

Is it too much to ask for peace?

This is my time away from the crazy hell of life and now I have to deal with this body.

The waves, bigger, choppier now.

The sun still trying to emerge, no luck.  Rain coming for sure.

I felt warm in my bundle of layers.  I know that body isn’t warm.

Hours pass and she is still there, only pushed further inland now.

My line didn’t tug at all.

No big deal, peanut butter sandwich for dinner.

A bit lighter now as the gray darkness fades out.  No matter, lighter gray hues fill the sky, dawn is upon us.

I reel in my line and pack up.

I carefully step off the rocky dock onto smooth sand. I place my chair down and contemplate.

I pace myself slowly toward the body. I’m getting nervous. For some reason, my heart is beating faster.

Clearly coming into view, covered in seaweed?

Is that black hair?  I could swear she has long black hair.

I’m closer now, a few more feet and I’m arms length, I don’t want to touch a dead body. I have to.

“Why do you have to ruin my night? Just do it, you can’t just walk away” convincing myself. I have to touch her, see who she is.

I touch her shoulder, give it a little tug, a sudden wave hits the body.

That’s all it takes for her face to appear…….

My head pounding drums, my heart racing.  Once again, I jump up drenched in sweat and throw my blankets to the side, ready to strike.

A picture on the wall, me and my sweetheart,  when life was good before the day at the morgue.

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