white seahorse

by Rachel Lynch in

Stretching as she wakes in the morning bed,  the sun is our alarm clock. The window panes are blue, but not as blue as the ocean. The tide pulls us in early, a storm was predicted for the evening, so she wanted to get a head start. She paddled out on her white long board into the deep blue. She sat, perfectly upright, legs on each side on the board waiting for a wave.

She was perfectly content where she was. If a single decent wave didn't come all day, she would have still been content. Sitting there, Blonde hair falling down her sun-bronsed back.