An evening at the beach

The evening sea breeze caresses her hair as she sits next to him, playing with grains of sand. He cannot take his eyes off her, but he doesn't want to look too interested. He looks at the rough sea instead, but his eyes stray back to rest on her profile. She is at ease, concentrating on the sand.

He cannot guess what is on her mind. Nor does he know what to say or do now.

He looks at her hand fingering the grains of sand, and feels an irrepressible urge to take her hand in his. He hesitates for a while, and then, on an impulse, takes her hand. She looks at him in mild surprise, smiles, and then continues her sand game with her other hand.

He is stumped. He had expected her to pull her hand away. Now he has no idea what to do with it. He looks at it. It is covered with grains of sand. He laboriously dusts off each grain, one by one.

Soon, he is done, and still he has her hand in his. She is still nonchalantly playing with the sand. He is now getting restless. Her hand feels heavy in his. Putting her hand back on the sand does not seem like the right thing to do. Then what should he do?

Perhaps he should kiss it? That sounds right. Perhaps he should. He takes a look at her again, and then lifts her hand slowly to his face. She stops playing and turns to look at him. His lips brush across her hand.

She looks at him without any expression. Then she pulls her hand away. She reaches for her handbag, opens it and rummages in it for a while, till she finds what she is looking for. She smiles, and hands it to him.

"Lip balm", she says.