“The waves were crashing around her, but I couldn’t see.
My heart was racing so fast, but she was still at peace.
I was on the sand and she was my Annabel Lee.
Annabel,
Annabel Lee walks past the…”
Pitch black.
Everything’s pitch black when I close my eyes. Headphones blasting music to block out the outside noise. My mother would yell at me for hours about how unsafe it is not to be vigilantly aware in the city, but this is my time. My moment.
My eyes open just as the light changes. I kick off the ground and the skateboard speeds down the sidewalk of the crowded metropolis I call home. The summer sun shines against the office buildings scraping against the clouds; its rays beat down on my already dark skin, sweat flying off. The sidewalk hits a smooth patch of newly paved street and I am flying. Weaving through the tourists, bankers, workers going through their day; my board curves and for a moment I am surfing. Each hint of a car passing is a wave trying to break me, the wind in its wake a shark calling for food.
Then I hit concrete and I’m in the city once more. Fat pigeons croaking like seagulls soaring around for a bite. Instead of the smell of the ocean, I smell exhaust. Instead of fish, I smell pizza, smoke escaping from impatient lungs grasping for a taste of nicotine.
“You smell that, don’t cha? It’s the smell of opportunity.”
I ride until I’m stopped by a cop. “You’re lucky. Any other day and I would’ve given you a ticket. You know skateboards aren’t allowed on the sidewalk. Get off and ride in the street.” I debate arguing over the fact that I’m likely to get hit since people are parked in the bike lanes, but it’d be as useless as trying to tell a shark I’m not a seal.
I carry my board over and kick off again, stumbling for a bit over gravel and small rocks, coating my wheels in dust. It takes a few minutes before I hit that smooth pavement again. The one good thing about the city? It’s in a constant state of renovation. It’s like building a sandcastle close to the water, washed away with the tide to be rebuilt again and again. A never-ending cycle.
The sun slowly sets, the cars coming less and less. Even the air starts to get cooler, crisper. I breathe as much of it in as possible, but it isn’t the clean bite of the sea, but the grimy aftertaste of the city that I choke down. Another cop stops me, “It’s too dangerous to skate in the street. You know better than that. Get on the sidewalk.”
Today’s just filled with contradictions and broken dreams. Instead of getting back on my board, I grip it in my arm and walk. Eventually I make it to the park. Slipping off my shoes, toes nestling into the grass, I try to feel the sand. The fountain water splashes against me and I feel the spray of the ocean. The sky paints itself blue and orange and green as it sets; lazy winds curling off the water to tousle my hair. Finally I’m right where I want to be.
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNKKK!!!!!!
A trunk horn echoes from a few streets away, close enough to shatter my illusion. Instead, I sit down, head on my knees.
I close my eyes and try to see the sea.
