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by Leni Ba
The first time he had the idea he'd been a clerk handing out cheerful postcards to excited tourists. "Why do you send photos of people you don't know?" he'd asked. As usual, the couple had just stared oddly and rolled their eyes a bit. They'd shrugged and happily kept on purchasing their souvenirs.
But the idea was there already. A smiling man walking alone down the beach. Jarod wanted to know what made him smile so much.
He felt the setting sun on his back, the darkening sky with barely there stars ahead of him. He heard the soothing waves at his right in the middle of the silence.
He finally picked up his shoes, left on the beach so he could run bare-footed. With a smirk he threw them to the water and some seconds later set off after them.
This was water, air, night and Jarod.
Freedom in its purest form.
The sand pickled at his feet as he walked to the nearest road but it was worth it.
Now he knew why strange men smiled in postcards.
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