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Description
"There are a lot of people looking at the sea today."
"Hm."
"What is it about it that people find so fascinating?"
Beating at the stones like waves of ash, the water was leaden except for where the sun could tease out a silver gleam, but even those soon rolled into the colourless murk bashing the legs of the pier. A crowd of people gathered, packed tight around the promenade's edge. Eyes cast away from the land and out into the hazy backlit yonder. Marina twisted her carrier bag to seal the clothes inside away from the rain starting to drift down. She'd only been here for a year and dulcet azure and stormy black alike held little appeal anymore. Her eyes were drawn to a red splash on the rocks, a sudden break in the ironclad monotony.
"Rob, look at that!"
She took his hand and ran towards the railing, craning out over the sands. A man sheathed in a scarlet coat was knee-deep in the ocean, something thrashing in the surf at his feet.
"It's a dolphin," Rob said, leaning on the chipped, white balustrade.
"Do you think it will be alright?"
"Oh, yes. Look at the way it keeps moving… It'll be fine. As long as he keeps it wet and upright it'll stay alive."
She squeezed his hand tight, digging her fingers into the slack meat of his palm. On the beach, the dolphin (which was actually a porpoise) spun helplessly, nudged by the seas that had cast it up. With careful hands the man rolled it back around. He cupped salt water in his hand and splashed it liberally over the creature, trailing down the wrinkled rivers of his palms. The movements of the animal were strong; if only the water were deeper or the waves less brutal Marina was sure it would have no problem. Rob was gazing out ahead, one foot resting on the lower balustrade, his back curved
The coast guard van reeled around the corner, a pale yellow jeep. Lights off and sirens silent. Two young, tanned, weather-beaten men wordlessly alighted and strode down to the stony strand, the patchwork of coats and umbrellas curving open before them. Marina strained her ears, but couldn't hear what they were shouting at the old man. He put his hands up, and a rush of waves spurted in from behind his legs, pushing the porpoise closer to the rocks beneath the pier. It flailed, raising a desperate flipper to the cold and grey sky. It slid even closer to the shore.
"The coastguard are here now," Rob squeezed Marina's hand quickly, "They'll get it back into the sea, just you watch."
"It's fallen over!"
"No it hasn't. See the dorsal fin? It's still upright. Kind of."
The man in the red coat stepped away from the porpoise, came ashore, and ascended the steps, merging with the crowd that gathered around the floundering animal. Hoping she could spot him, Marina allowed her eyes to flit from the beach over the promenade, but he was lost. The men were standing by the sea, apparently deep in conversation. The porpoise flipped at an angle, and skidded a little further in land. As the tide receded, it did not pull the porpoise back with it.
"Why are they just standing there? Why aren't they helping it, what are they doing?"
"They can't just rush in there, Mari. They'll do something."
They didn't.
The corpse was lifted out, away from the water, falling in crystal streams back to the earth, and lay down in a florescent orange sack. It looked more like a silhouette than anything that could have once been a living creature. The life had been hollowed away before it had even been cast ashore. The crowd didn't move even after the two halves of the bag had been zipped over, concealing it. Rob held Marina's hand but didn't squeeze it, didn't secretly caress her palm, just let it lie in his, hooped in his fingers, as if that would be enough. Whispers started to billow through the watchers. Quiet and scattered at first, then growing like a chill running down the spine of a person when a goose steps over their grave. Marina shivered. There was a neon orange block on the sands where a living creature had just lost its struggle for life. It seemed indecent somehow to mask the dignity of the dead in such a brash colour.
She reached up to brush her fringe aside and pulled her fingers back slick with damp. The rain had started to fall earnestly now and no one had noticed. The skin of the sea was pitted with the merciless drops, and she her t-shirt was starting to cling to her heavy curves and the small of her back. There was a dull thump as Rob hung his red hoodie over her shoulders, then pulled her into a quick embrace before simply squeezing her shoulder. She put her hand on his. His knuckles were rough and flaking.
"They couldn't save it."
"It died. They have a habit of the doing that. The coastguard did the best they could."
Rob's white shirt was starting to show patches of grey where the rain hit it and made it possible to see the skin underneath. She had half a mind to offer him his hoodie back but it was warm, and blunted the dampness of her own t-shirt nicely. All she managed to do was smile at him.
"Come on, let's get some dinner."

Description
"There are a lot of people looking at the sea today."
"Hm."
"What is it about it that people find so fascinating?"
Beating at the stones like waves of ash, the water was leaden except for where the sun could tease out a silver gleam, but even those soon rolled into the colourless murk bashing the legs of the pier. A crowd of people gathered, packed tight around the promenade's edge. Eyes cast away from the land and out into the hazy backlit yonder. Marina twisted her carrier bag to seal the clothes inside away from the rain starting to drift down. She'd only been here for a year and dulcet azure and stormy black alike held little appeal anymore. Her eyes were drawn to a red splash on the rocks, a sudden break in the ironclad monotony.
"Rob, look at that!"
She took his hand and ran towards the railing, craning out over the sands. A man sheathed in a scarlet coat was knee-deep in the ocean, something thrashing in the surf at his feet.
"It's a dolphin," Rob said, leaning on the chipped, white balustrade.
"Do you think it will be alright?"
"Oh, yes. Look at the way it keeps moving… It'll be fine. As long as he keeps it wet and upright it'll stay alive."
She squeezed his hand tight, digging her fingers into the slack meat of his palm. On the beach, the dolphin (which was actually a porpoise) spun helplessly, nudged by the seas that had cast it up. With careful hands the man rolled it back around. He cupped salt water in his hand and splashed it liberally over the creature, trailing down the wrinkled rivers of his palms. The movements of the animal were strong; if only the water were deeper or the waves less brutal Marina was sure it would have no problem. Rob was gazing out ahead, one foot resting on the lower balustrade, his back curved
The coast guard van reeled around the corner, a pale yellow jeep. Lights off and sirens silent. Two young, tanned, weather-beaten men wordlessly alighted and strode down to the stony strand, the patchwork of coats and umbrellas curving open before them. Marina strained her ears, but couldn't hear what they were shouting at the old man. He put his hands up, and a rush of waves spurted in from behind his legs, pushing the porpoise closer to the rocks beneath the pier. It flailed, raising a desperate flipper to the cold and grey sky. It slid even closer to the shore.
"The coastguard are here now," Rob squeezed Marina's hand quickly, "They'll get it back into the sea, just you watch."
"It's fallen over!"
"No it hasn't. See the dorsal fin? It's still upright. Kind of."
The man in the red coat stepped away from the porpoise, came ashore, and ascended the steps, merging with the crowd that gathered around the floundering animal. Hoping she could spot him, Marina allowed her eyes to flit from the beach over the promenade, but he was lost. The men were standing by the sea, apparently deep in conversation. The porpoise flipped at an angle, and skidded a little further in land. As the tide receded, it did not pull the porpoise back with it.
"Why are they just standing there? Why aren't they helping it, what are they doing?"
"They can't just rush in there, Mari. They'll do something."
They didn't.
The corpse was lifted out, away from the water, falling in crystal streams back to the earth, and lay down in a florescent orange sack. It looked more like a silhouette than anything that could have once been a living creature. The life had been hollowed away before it had even been cast ashore. The crowd didn't move even after the two halves of the bag had been zipped over, concealing it. Rob held Marina's hand but didn't squeeze it, didn't secretly caress her palm, just let it lie in his, hooped in his fingers, as if that would be enough. Whispers started to billow through the watchers. Quiet and scattered at first, then growing like a chill running down the spine of a person when a goose steps over their grave. Marina shivered. There was a neon orange block on the sands where a living creature had just lost its struggle for life. It seemed indecent somehow to mask the dignity of the dead in such a brash colour.
She reached up to brush her fringe aside and pulled her fingers back slick with damp. The rain had started to fall earnestly now and no one had noticed. The skin of the sea was pitted with the merciless drops, and she her t-shirt was starting to cling to her heavy curves and the small of her back. There was a dull thump as Rob hung his red hoodie over her shoulders, then pulled her into a quick embrace before simply squeezing her shoulder. She put her hand on his. His knuckles were rough and flaking.
"They couldn't save it."
"It died. They have a habit of the doing that. The coastguard did the best they could."
Rob's white shirt was starting to show patches of grey where the rain hit it and made it possible to see the skin underneath. She had half a mind to offer him his hoodie back but it was warm, and blunted the dampness of her own t-shirt nicely. All she managed to do was smile at him.
"Come on, let's get some dinner."