Victor had chosen this particular day to go to the beach, as well, as luck would have it. The perpetual increase in confusion he was feeling each time he opened his journal was maddening. The visions had become more intense, his dreams more vivid than ever, and he was trying to get away from it, as best as he could.
The beach -- with its serene sands, the sound of the gentle waves, half-naked bodies clad in the bare essentials to arbitrarily established lines of decency -- and some good old alcohol seemed a promising way to accomplish this. He'd opted for beer this time, instead of his typical Crown, the more casual drink better suited to the day. And my, the German Warsteiner was good. So there he was, sitting on a towel underneath an umbrella, just sitting up, breathing in the moist air, enjoying the sun. He had a notepad open, jotting down things now and then as he thought of them, watching people pass occasionally -- his muses, he thought -- inspiring characters in his latest work. He put the notebook aside and got up, stretching, spotting a very pretty looking blonde as he reached into his cooler and took out another beer.
My, she was beautiful. She had this glow about her he couldn't quite place, and she looked so familiar, but he was sure he had never seen her before in his life. It was like that other time, with Francesca, or that evening, with Melanie from the journals, but this one was different. They were all different, weren't they? But those three had something distinct about them that set them apart from the rest. It was like they were on a higher step, a thing he could not explain, much as he tried, and he was not going to spend his time at the beach trying, now.
But how to approach? He watched for a few moments, deciding she must be unaccompanied, before proceeding. He took a volleyball he had brought, having played earlier in the day, and waited until he was sure her attention had been diverted, before throwing it near her spot, not close enough to toss up any sand and be a bother, but close enough that he could engage in conversation and not have it seem creepy.
He jogged over to retrieve the ball, keeping an aw-shucks demeanor about him. "Sorry about that. Nice day out, isn't it?" he asked.