Shree stood at the chilly shorefront, looking out beyond the jagged black rocks jutting out from the irritable ocean, beyond the far-off fleet serving as a blockade, towards the far-off sunset. The sunsets were darker now, as they mourned the passing of the summer months. She could, if she imagined it, hear the protests of the waves; they rushed into the shoreline’s loving embrace, only to be dragged away by the moon’s cruel pull.

She withdrew a few pieces of bread from her pocket and threw them at the gulls squawking overhead. Much to her disappointment, the gulls exhibited none of their avian acrobatic talents. There were no hair-raising dives to catch the loaves at the peak of their arc, nor celebratory loop-de-loops as they retreated with their prize. They seemed content to stare as the bread fell onto the sandy beach. Really, now. What was the deal with that? They seemed to be mocking her, what with their glassy eyes and confused expressions she just wanted to grab them by their wings and scream, “Eat, you stupi-”

A poke to her left shoulder interrupted her train of thought.

“Now then, missy, you got a reason to be in these parts? Loiterin’s a crime, ya know.”

“Seriously, shut up Sal,” she replied, without turning around. “I can't deal with all this warbling. Tough to hear the birds.”

“Alright, alright, I hear ya. Ready to go?”

She looked back out at the shoreline, then her boyfriend. He had a lanky build, slim, with some muscle definition if you were lucky enough to look under his thick fleece coat. The sunset made his tanned skin seem to glow, the dim light flickering across his eyes.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

They made their way to a local nightclub, the Shrieking Banshee. If the name didn’t give it away, the music playing was quite abrasive. As was the clientele. Or that was just something that Shree liked to tell herself; being perfectly honest, a majority of the club-goers were perfectly happy to settle their differences without splitting their knuckles on one another.

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The Banshee was full, although not overly so. A low, rhythmic beat shook the building’s too-thin walls, as the clientele swayed in the dark purple light. She grabbed Sal by the arm and dragged him over to the bar, and the two sat down next to each other, with mock-serious expressions.

“So,” she began in a horribly exaggerated Southern drawl, “What brings you to these parts? In search’o riches?”

“Aye, somth’n like that. Ah got a job quaht near the pier though. Thinkin’ o’ star’n my own place.”

“Okay, seriously. There are accents and then there’s whatever in hell that was.”

“Oh okay, miss I-can-perfectly-replicate-the-tone-and-mannerisms-of-a-place-I’ve-never-been. I’ll talk in my regular old boring voice, how about that.”

“That’s a lot better,” she laughed, “you gonna order the usual? Like a boring person?”

“You know I am!”

“Goddamit, you’d think that someday you’d get sick of ordering the exact same thing every time, huh?”

“You’d think,” he replied with a goofy grin. “But then, I really haven’t.”

“Ugh, you can be really insufferable sometimes. How was work today?”

Sal’s expression visibly soured. “You’d think that we’d be used to the damage that Vel did by now. They hit a channeling clinic. For ‘not being in line with the values of the Heroic Order’ or something. It’s messed up is what it is.”

“Hey, I’m sorry to hear that Sal,” Shree replied, “Is there anything that I can do to help? You seemed a lot more...put together? When we were talking earlier.”

“Ugh. I’unno. That was then. Not sure why now. I think I’m just gonna head home and skip today. That fine with you?”

“Oh uh...yeah! If you think that’s best. Uhm, see you on Wednesday?”

“Alright.”

Sal stood from the bar stool, shoulders weary. He headed home, drinks unordered. Shree would head home soon afterwards, praying that love could truly conquer all.

The moon was out that night. Its reflection wavered proud in the furious seas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think I sat there

Comfortably uncaring

And then I stood up