Keepsakes at Dusk (Vapor, PM)

(Continued from: Learning to Dance with the Rain)

Pushing open the door to the fancy semi-circle balcony, Era padded out toward the railing. Seabirds squawked in the distance. The lull of the waves rolling across the beach below was a therapeutic measure all its own, but adding to its ambience was a perky island jingle that played softly over the Café's radio.

The late evening had softened the lengthy shadows along the ground, and the world seemed calmed by the colors of the breathtaking tropical sky stained in varying hues of oranges and pinks.

A few Seagulls scattered away from her feet as she trotted toward the last of the tables, and set down a blue-tinged glass bottle. The birds only spread out in order to reconvene on the tables and chairs nearby.

She smirked briefly, noticing the birds in the bottle's reflection, and one bird scooted in closer with a caw, then another mimicked the brave initial actions. As she gripped a large chunk of day-old bread, pairs of Avian eyes watched her hands, knowing fully well what was inside those hands and wanting what she possessed with impatience.

A brown and white bird flapped into the air, landing on her shoulder. The claws of his single leg were sharp against the skin of her shoulder.

"Ouch! Stub!" her hand moved to pry his claws into a more comfortable position, to which she received a warning peck on her fingers. She gave the bird a most flustered expression. "Where are your manners?" To spite the audacious Seagull, she quickly jerked her shoulder once, causing him to lose balance and flap his wings, and then she proceeded to tear the old bread she had taken from the store's toss pile.

Each bird got his fair portion, for which they nibbled and bickered. They were a little like felines in how quickly they could learn if the subject involved something they desired. She had only been on Destiny Islands for two weeks now. She had quickly landed a job at the Café, and each evening had made the dedication to this ritual.

As she tossed each chunk of rye to its corresponding recipient, even Stub swooped down to ground-level for his turn, and Era picked up the bottle she'd previously disregarded to tend to the birds. She pressed the cork firmly into the bottleneck, securing it to ensure it wouldn't leak.

The note within had been bound by a simple rabbit-eared string. It was addressed to a specific recipient, however unlikely it was that he should read it. Era took a deep breath, allowing the briny air to fill her lungs, and the soft ebb and flow of the waves had calmed her nerves, simultaneously bringing heaviness to her heart.

Her hands stroked the outside of the glass, and with all her five foot, dainty might, she tossed it.

The bottle gleaned in the last of the sun's rays, landing in a wave, but far closer than she was hoping it would land. The bottom of the container caught the sand, and it spun with the push and pull of the waves.