The Wave is coming.
He fumbles around his apartment, as the terrified man attempts to pack up his belongings. While quickly grabbing a duffle bag, he snatches up his worn out wallet. Never judge a book by its cover, for it does not matter about the outer shell but rather, whats inside. All of his money. He keeps a spare wallet, which he calls his "Savings Account". From the looks of things, saving isn't at the top of his list of things to do. If you were to open the fold of the leather wallet, you would only see a hand full of change where the paper currency would normally be. Never the less, he throws the pocket change holder in the bag, along with a few articles of clothing. Sweat begins to bead on his forehead as he lifts the bag toward his shoulder.
As he runs toward the front door, he blindly grabs the large picture frame that sits on his kitchen table. He shoves it within the side pocket of the duffle bag and rather violently, busts open the front door.
The street is covered with hundreds of people in full on panic mode. Something like cockroaches scattering around when a light switch is flicked on. Some people are crying. Children running around without there families. But for the most part, people are just trying to get as far away as they can from the ensuing wall of water.
He swings his bag around to his side and as he cradles the duffle bag, he begins to run, just like everyone else, in the opposite direction of the defense; of the wave. His shoes slipping on the loose dirt on the side of the street with every push off, with every step. The pure respect. Respect of what mother nature could do. The thought of staying never entered his clouded head, for that would be suicide. He would have to run. Have to retreat. Being a coward, whether he liked it or not, was happening right now. How could he not flee?
The wave had not been foreseen, at least not by him. Yes of course, he heard rumors of the ensuing incident but payed no attention to it. He knew it were possible, but would it actually happen so soon, of course not. By now, that viewpoint has been thrown out the window. After running for what seemed like forever and a day, he finally spots his truck. He fumbles around for his keys and unlocks the door. The sound of the engine sparks a small smile of inspiration.
As he speeds down the dirt road along the coast of the island, the wave decides to show its angry face upon his rear view mirror. The towering, highrise of fluid almost staring at him, taunting him, with its own reflection. His eyes cut over toward his duffle bag's side pocket. He removes its contents and begins to stare at the rather large picture that was formally on his kitchen table. A myriad of emotions appear upon his face, but he concludes with a shrug of his shoulders as he begins to pull over on the side of the dusty road.
He opens the truck door and without shutting it, he begins to walk toward the waters edge. He takes a few steps and drops his keys onto the warm sand, while still looking at the picture within its frame. He takes a few more steps and finally looks up from the picture. As the wave catches his eye, he lets go of the only object that is still left within his grasp. The old, wood frame sticks up in the sand, showing to the world, the nothingness within its confines.
Just as he arrives where the shoreline would be, he cranks his neck up toward the sky, sort of like a midget would do when first meeting Shaq. As the wave begins to crash down upon him, he closes his eyes and smiles, because he realizes that the decision that has been made, is the right one. The wave crashes down upon him and the feeling is almost soothing. Refreshing. Revitalizing.
As the water, now becoming the coward, begins to recede back toward the horizon, he looks around. His world is full of Change. What was once something that he ran from, he now embraces. With everyday that passes, the warm waters of change saturate everyone and everything. His problems of today, no one really remembers, but rather how he reacts to the problems is what is edged within the stone of time. He can finally see the big picture within the frame.
He takes a deep breathe, and with a zen-like state of mind, he continues...
