Softly Shouting

  They had agreed to meet on the beach; talking always easier when walking. He spotted her first, under the shadow of the Forth Rail Bridge. Bending and stretching, bending and stretching: picking up sea glass. It was the day after the storm, still blustery but with a hesitant sun trying to break through the clouds. He walked towards her, eyes already on the beach to spot precious bits of glass. He had joined her in sea glass hunts before; together they would scour beaches in Kirkcaldy and Leven; east-coast industrial beaches, where the finds were plentiful and varied. Queensferry was good too, and within metres of his walk, he saw something that could possibly be pirate glass. He picked it up; a peace offering. She hugged him and he remembered the smell of her hair. They fell into step, a comfortable monosyllabic conversation between them. Bending and stretching, bending and stretching; exchanging the odd word about a find, about family and friends. She had quite a collection of s...