That summer thunderstorm on the beach ...
The woman closed the door of the chalet behind her, so as not to make it slam by the wind.
Slender, tall, she slowly advanced towards the sea, face raised towards the sky, arms slightly extended along the body and palms of hands open upwards, welcoming with pleasure the raindrops of that summer storm that suddenly broke out in the early evening.
When a bolt of lightning crossed the cloud-darkened sky and illuminated her face for a moment, you could have seen a shiver of pleasure in her green eyes: that day had been quite hot.
n a short time that storm increased in intensity, almost becoming a storm. On the right, the cliff was barely visible; in the glare of lightning, high waves, dark, massive, jagged with foam, ran straight towards the beach. And the woman seemed fascinated but not afraid of it all.
And the two waves above all the others saw it ... but only the second, leaden as the sky, was undeniably menacing, compact, cruel.
The first of her, however, saw that imprudent figure a few steps from the shoreline, and in an instant she felt that something so beautiful could not be destroyed: she immediately decided to protect her from the wave that followed her.
She then forcefully hit her woman by dragging her on top of her along the beach; but when she returned to the sea at the ebb of her, she did so delicately and, licking only her body and avoiding dragging him, she was able for a few moments to see in those green eyes an expression of pleasant amazement, without any shadow of fear . And her wave was so enchanted that she was about to change her mind: she would have liked to drag her to look at her again, and then again, taking her with him to her terminal point on the shoreline.
But she didn't.
Then she quickly went on her last run towards the sea and, in her last moment of life, she hit the leaden heavy wave that followed her, making her fall heavily on herself and crushing her forever.
Returning to the cabin, the woman stopped at the door, put her hand on her doorknob, but then, for a moment, she looked back.
The storm was now over, and the beach she loved so much would take on the usual appearance of a midsummer day the next day; but, at the same time, she suddenly realized that she was no longer the same as she was when she left the cabin: something indistinct but tenacious would remain forever in her heart.
Nobody stays the same after a storm.
p.s. dedicated to my wife, and to all women with blue green eyes like the sea.
CONTES DE ZEFERINO:
TALES OF ZEFERINO: