$77 won in craps my first time. The casino also delivered a woman with red streaks and personality a soft muted blue. In English and Spanish, she was perfect. Three margaritas later, two Jack Daniels, sand in my camera, and an aunt striving to cockblock me, we were all that remained before the ocean washed it away.
7 years of bad luck, they said. It was penance for the mirror that broke in my apartment last week. The night nestled into tomorrow, coated by tear drops of a sky weeping in sorrow.
‘Don’t go yet,’ I whispered, holding her as close as I could, as she pouted and shivered.
The ocean was cold; the rain didn’t help.
‘I don’t want this moment to become a memory yet,’ I followed.
We kissed. No. It was more than a kiss. Because a kiss ends, and this didn’t.
We dove backwards into the ocean, seven times, bitching about how beautiful it was as the water rushed up our noses and clogged our concerns. Thousands of people were joining us, our footprints soon to be washed away, unlike the sand in our clothes. The key to my room, also washed away.
There was nothing past the island. Only us, only a reason to return. If God is real, he was there that night, wetting us from all angles, splashing us so we had to close our eyes and kiss one more time.