A pale June sky stretched over the coast, the sea a gunmetal mirror. Joseph Mercer crept from the darkness, bare feet slipping across cold sand.
Hours earlier he’d escaped from borstal, scaling a rain-slick wall and racing through back streets. His heart pounded with equal parts terror and exhilaration.
At the water’s edge, Joe peeled off his prison-issue jacket. The sea beckoned like a promise of rebirth. He waded in, each stroke felt like a baptism.
Breaking the surface, Joe blinked at a figure cutting strong, silent arcs through the water. Even at first glance, the man’s broad shoulders and powerful kick told of discipline.
Their eyes met. Joe saw uniformed authority in those dark eyes. Yet something hesitated in the stranger’s gaze.
The policeman treaded water, head tilted. ‘Morning swim,’ he called out, Joe’s heart thundered.
Joe swallowed saltwater and managed, ‘Needed to feel free for once.’
A silence followed. The officer’s gaze softened, recalling his own boyhood summers spent here before duty and uniform claimed him.
Back on shore he draped a towel over Joe’s shoulders and led him toward a battered Cortina.
Inside, he pressed a crumpled fiver into Joe’s hand. ‘Catch the first train out of town,’ he murmured.
Joe stared at the banknote, throat tight. He nodded once and slipped into the shadows as dawn settled over a new day.
The officer watched him go. He lingered until Joe’s shadow melted into the line of pine trees, then turned to walk back toward the station.
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 