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Short Story : The Tide's Coming Up

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“The tide’s coming up.” Jane’s brush nearly fell out of her hand, splattering crimson on the rocks. A wave crashed behind her. Droplets of water rained on her palette and used brushes. She glanced at the intruder above. Mark’s familiar jacket matched the alarming red that now covered her shoes. “Is the moon the only light you have?” He peered over the short wall, trying to get a glimpse of the other side. She ignored his question and resumed her painting. Mark sat on the wall facing the ocean and dangled his legs over the side, hands stuffed in his coat pockets. Only the waves broke the silence. The seawall stretched for about a half mile, bordering a small section of coastline from the end of the town beach to the nearest dock. It …show more content…

I don’t get how they’re so stable, must be breaking some laws of physics.” “Yeah, I don’t get it either.” “You could say their balance is rock solid.” Jane smiled unwittingly. She knew he had seen it. “I knew you weren’t so stone cold, Jane.” She slumped her shoulders in defeat and let her smile grow like usual. She even bared her teeth. Mark laughed, breaths creating small clouds in the cold air. “Aren’t the rocks slippery?” Mark asked. “Only the ones with seaweed.” “Not the others? Really?” “I haven’t cracked my head yet.” “You cracked your head a while ago.” He lowered himself onto the rocks beside the worn brushes and palettes. Jane looked at Mark for the first time since he arrived. His nose and cheeks almost matched the color of his jacket. His hands were white. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” Mark carefully stepped onto the rock with Jane’s tools. We don’t need to go down this road. “Why are you here, Jane?” “I don’t know.” “You don’t know. You have no idea why you’re painting the seawall in the middle of the night. In January.” “I like to paint.” She focused on the crisscrossing shades of pigment on the walls. She placed the brush on a rock beside her and began tracing dripping paint with her fingertips. “Plus there’s no one here.” She traced a crack in the wall with her index fingers. “I’m here.” “You shouldn’t be.” “Jane, I’m

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