This week’s photo prompt is provided by Louise with The Storyteller’s Abode. Thank you Louise!
Sarah hadn’t wanted to go that day. The beach was pebbly and just a short drive down the coast was her favourite beach, quiet dunes stretching to the horizon, worm-pocked sands surrendering to sparkling sea.
She and Patrick had argued about it – he liked the drama of the rocks, the potential to find crabs and barnacles – and Sarah had walked alone, feet wobbling on shifting stones.
That was when she found the watch, cradled between a razor clam shell and a pebble the colour of jade. She’d scooped it from its nest, stowing it in her pocket before Patrick saw.
Over the weeks that followed she cleaned the mechanism, picking sand and fragments of shell from between the cogs, oiling the spring.
Then one day – a tick, the hand drifting slowly round. It seemed a miracle that a thing so long broken could return to shining beauty.
Next morning over a sullen breakfast, she said, ‘Pat, we need to talk.’