Wednesday, 23 December 2015

Beached

He looks out from his bedroom window. Dressing gown clad, coffee in one hand. Sixth months jobless now. Applications returned. No new ones sent out. He cannot bring himself to face the computer, and so he scans the ocean instead. Daily. Hour after hour. And this day in particular he spots a hunched shape on the beach, dark and smooth as a pebble. A living creature. Vast beast, marooned on the sand. He watches as rescuers arrive with tarpaulins and buckets of water. A valiant effort, but he senses that it will do no good. He watches the whale, lying there immobile, crusted in sand. He knows exactly how it feels.

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