Sam sat looking out over the sea and the setting sun. The tips of the knee-high grass appeared to be on fire in the orange light, dithering in the breeze.
He felt like crying, as he often did when he came up here, but he’d stopped being able to a while back. Whatever he was feeling, it just went on, and on, and on, with no release. Not unlike life in Moorcove.
He thought of the simple scene, of Meredith and Paul together. He wondered how he could love two people so much, and also carry this feeling. A feeling like- like his wish for them to be apart was slowly leading him down a path, at the end of which he would revile them.
What have I done? He asked himself, as if his decision to follow a man he loved to Moorcove and lay down the rest of his life was a simple decision he’d made yesterday, like finding you have extra time and running to the store, or calling up a friend and seeing if they wanted to meet at the pub. It never occurred to him that he could maybe pick up what he’d lain down and start anew; he’d felt his own life was out of his control for too long.
He felt the breeze touch his cheek, and slid his eyelids closed, breathing deeply. He wanted to feel his lungs filled with the beauty of this place he was beginning to hate, and let it invigorate him. But he could never get them to feel full enough, everything dulled.
He heard the whispering of the grass change behind him.
“Hey Brains,” came Almon’s voice by way of greeting.
Sam said nothing. He wanted to be alone.
“Come on,” Almon’s meaty hand gave a gentle shove of Sam’s shoulder. “It doesn’t work if you don’t say it.”
Sam breathed out the breath he’d been holding in a great sigh, returning what he’d borrowed. “Hey Brawn,” he said, by way of greeting his friend.