ALWAYS
Strolling down the beach, the warm sand sifts through your toes as the sun massages a tan into your shoulders. A few plump white clouds hang heavy in the air and a northward breeze sways the fronds of the nearby palms. You smile, watching the cream-crested waves race up the shore and retreat back into the ocean. This is the life that people say they will live “someday.” Your life is their someday.
On the horizon, a smudge on the mirror of perfection grabs your eye. Squinting, it's a haze in the distance, a rolling fog heading this way. A wind blows off the water, swirls about and kicks up sand; the cold edge of the air straightens the hairs of your arms. A gaze upward shows a storm's promise from the graying clouds, but maybe that is a play of the afternoon light. You doubt it, though.
The waves gather and assault your feet where dry sand once lay. The pull of the ocean surprises you, halting the tour. The next heave drenches more sand, the waters residue marking its new territory. Climbing out of reach of the increasing swells, you realize that the walk is over.
You hurry through the uneven bush line and down the trail to the house. At least it isn't far. The clouds gather, a dark purple mass, and the smell of rain fills your nostrils. The wind chases after, shaking leaves and limbs in your path. Sprinting, you dart through the doorway and shut the door. Rushing to each room, you slide each window closed and lock it in place. The sound of fat splattering rain is accompanied by the raging wind, searching for entrance.
Laying on the bed, the safest spot in the house, you relax. Not for long, however. The windows rattle as never before and the walls themselves shake as if the titans themselves were pulling the house loose off its foundation. You grip the edges of the mattress, biceps and forearms tight, as the bed rocks and the wind screams. The window to the right, strains, cracks and explodes inward. You cry and shield your eyes, rolling off the bed.