Every morning, she is there, sitting on the old, rusting clifftop bench, staring out at the ocean. I always greet her as I pass by, but I don’t think she ever notices me.
Today, as I make my way down the track, I notice that ‘her bench’ is empty.
I stop, climb off my bike, lean it, against the back of the seat and sit down in her spot. For a few minutes, stare at the dancing waves on her behalf.
I am not sure what I’m looking for, but know I don’t see what she sees.
(Published, Five Minute Stories, May 2025).
