Single handed sailor

A warm, lazy breeze comes caressing from the sea shimmering in the sharp mid-morning sun, its blazing rays bouncing off the powdery whiteness of the sand. The mug of beer you ordered from the thatched-roof bar at this island resort is getting warmer on the wooden table, next to the book you’ve brought for the trip but not read. You will finish it before you get back, you promise. You’re sitting under the roof near the edge of the bar area, where your toes accidentally touch the burning sand. You search for your slipper with your feet as you reach for the beer. It’s too hot to even think of a smoke. Sipping the lukewarm beer, you notice how the half empty mug has the residual smell of the potato chips you had a while ago. You take a deep breath, and inhale the salty breeze which carries the distinct smell of suntan lotion from beach where bathers and swimmers are splashing around in the sea. A lone kayak is bobbing up and down almost vulnerably in the vast blue sea. A sail boat struggles even further up. You look at the book for a while and pick up your iPod, and this song comes on, fittingly.