A Beer and A Beach

I sat on the beach with an ice-cold beer, and waited for them to come. No more running. I just wanted to enjoy my last few minutes of freedom.

I suppose I’d never really expected it to all catch up with me. I’d lived it all like some kind of dream. The last six months had been a lesson in reality, and they had been god awful. Maybe I’d look back on them one day fondly. Maybe they’d make exciting tales. In the moment, I just felt exhausted though.

The beer was good, refreshing and sending a numbness through me that allowed me to ease into the situation like a hot bath. Knowing it was the last one I’d have for a while, I savoured every drop.

Going down in a blaze of glory? I’m not the type. Maybe I’m just an optimist and where I see life I see hope. Maybe it’s just a damn sight more pleasant to be put in a cell than a body bag.

It had been fun though hadn’t it! Before the last six months of course. No responsibility, no ties, an unlimited stream of money if I wanted it (and I did). Fun. That was it in a nutshell. Now to pay the price for all of that.

Just as I was taking my last sip I saw the helicopters, jet skis, and speedboats coming. I felt the sand, warm under my hands, took a last breath of free air. I stood up and accepted my fate.


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