[Every woman has a story. Every story has a colour. This is just one of them.
This is a work of fiction. The characters and situations are purely imaginary, and any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental and unintended.]
I stand on the sandy beach. Wind hitting my face; pulling back my hair, my white muslin skirt. Inhaling the salt in the air. Watching the waves roll up to caress my bare toes.
Is it a Moment? An Eternity?
I do not know. When I here, I am just me.
The woman in White. No past. No present. No future.
I watch the sea. Ever-moving, yet strangely permanent. Each wave distinct, yet collectively all the same.
Here I am. Just communing with Nature. Feeling insignificant in comparison to the Universe, and immense as an intrinsic part of all Creation.
Drabble(n) - an extremely short work of fiction exactly one hundred words in length.