At the end of the pier she climbed the railing. Her socked feet gripped the wooden beam without strength while the wind of the sea jostled her legs and ruined her new haircut. I set my bottle down and went to her, grabbing her ankles. She glanced down at me with vindication and laughed as her mouth spat venom. 

“If I were going to dream of one thousand suns, or more, would they be beautiful?” 

She swayed like a marionette on loose strings. Her arms fluttered as she waved them like wings, laughing and shaking. The dark night weighed down on her shoulders to quell such abandon. From above I felt wet on my hands. Even through the wind and the waves of that unfeeling sea, I could hear her frail voice. 

“I’ve gotten so bored with it.”

Her body went limp as she fell to the water below. I did not let go, and as I was dragged to the pitch that opened to accept its child, I could still hear her laughter. 

We washed up on the beach. I dragged her to the bank and laid beside her while we both caught our breath from the ordeal. She giggled to herself, then she cried, and then she was silent for a time. As though eons passed in the warm sand, we were living  corpses. Light bled from the road above the beach as a car parked somewhere. In that pale bloodless light I could see her face again. Sallow. 

“I don’t know what more I could want.” 

The sun began to ease over the far horizon, drowning the electric light and chasing the vindication of the night. With such ruth of sight, she cursed me again. Unable to answer, I held her hand tightly while we cried together in the dawn.