The chime above the surf shop door barely registered against the heavy tread of his boots. Red stepped inside like he owned the tide, bringing with him the scent of salt, leather, and something wilder just beneath the skin. The place was currently quiet with boards hanging like relics, wetsuits draped over racks like second skins waiting for someone braver. Or stupider.
He wasn’t sure what brought him here exactly. Just a rare day without blood or business. The ocean had always been his, deep, dark, seductive and endless. But the surface… the surface was a stranger. Beautiful in a way he didn’t trust.
Maybe that’s why he wanted to ride it.
His eyes drifted over the boards, long and short, thick and sharp. He ran a hand along a sleek fish-tail board, its edge catching the light like a blade. For a moment, it reminded him of dorsal fins slicing through water, of hunger and home. But this venture wasn’t about hunting. It was about surrender, maybe. Or control. Or the idea of skimming the skin of the world instead of diving beneath it. Letting the wave carry him instead of letting it fear him.
He quietly snorted at himself as he studied the boards, but his ears were open to every sound around him. Flip-flops smacking pavement outside. A tourist couple debating fins versus foam. The soft thump of a wave-warped ceiling fan circling above, struggling against the heat. Somewhere close, someone dropped a box, the echoing sound of small parts skittering like spilled shells across the concrete floor. Red didn’t flinch, but his attention flicked in that direction for a beat.
He moved down the line of boards with the same focus he gave to crime scenes. Slow, deliberate, assessing shape and weight with a glance. His fingers drifted across a sleek tri-fin. It felt fast, dangerous. Like it might bite if you didn’t respect it.
That made him like it more, and made the time that passed more enjoyable as he inspected the board and waited for the owner to surface.
He wasn’t sure what brought him here exactly. Just a rare day without blood or business. The ocean had always been his, deep, dark, seductive and endless. But the surface… the surface was a stranger. Beautiful in a way he didn’t trust.
Maybe that’s why he wanted to ride it.
His eyes drifted over the boards, long and short, thick and sharp. He ran a hand along a sleek fish-tail board, its edge catching the light like a blade. For a moment, it reminded him of dorsal fins slicing through water, of hunger and home. But this venture wasn’t about hunting. It was about surrender, maybe. Or control. Or the idea of skimming the skin of the world instead of diving beneath it. Letting the wave carry him instead of letting it fear him.
He quietly snorted at himself as he studied the boards, but his ears were open to every sound around him. Flip-flops smacking pavement outside. A tourist couple debating fins versus foam. The soft thump of a wave-warped ceiling fan circling above, struggling against the heat. Somewhere close, someone dropped a box, the echoing sound of small parts skittering like spilled shells across the concrete floor. Red didn’t flinch, but his attention flicked in that direction for a beat.
He moved down the line of boards with the same focus he gave to crime scenes. Slow, deliberate, assessing shape and weight with a glance. His fingers drifted across a sleek tri-fin. It felt fast, dangerous. Like it might bite if you didn’t respect it.
That made him like it more, and made the time that passed more enjoyable as he inspected the board and waited for the owner to surface.
The chime of the door let Victor know someone had just come in. He had been in the back of the shop tearing apart the kitchen. He was loading everything perishable into a cardboard box to be tossed in the trash. He closed the door to the small refrigerator and poked his head around the corner. He saw a big guy in the shop – a guy a kinda recognized.
He came out from the back and onto the floor of the shop. Victor followed the big guy’s line of sight. “She’s a beauty, huh?” He swallowed and looked over his shoulder at all the stuff he needed to do to leave town. “Today is your lucky day, mate. I am having an ‘Everything Must Go’ Sale. Take what ya want. Shop’s going out of business.”
With permission to take given, Victor returned to the backroom and continued gathering items to throw out. The majority of stuff can stay, to be used or discarded by whoever bought this place. He would call the commercial realtor from his boat.
He came out from the back and onto the floor of the shop. Victor followed the big guy’s line of sight. “She’s a beauty, huh?” He swallowed and looked over his shoulder at all the stuff he needed to do to leave town. “Today is your lucky day, mate. I am having an ‘Everything Must Go’ Sale. Take what ya want. Shop’s going out of business.”
With permission to take given, Victor returned to the backroom and continued gathering items to throw out. The majority of stuff can stay, to be used or discarded by whoever bought this place. He would call the commercial realtor from his boat.
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