As he watched the sailboats in the bay, with their sails unfurled and catching what gentle winds were circulating, he caught a glance of her. Knew not her name but in an instance his mood was transformed. He'd come down here to escape memories both good and now tragic. They were and always would be something he would look back on with a certain melancholy; which was okay because that's how life worked, or so they told him. Still, he wished things could have turned out a little better.
Now, however, his attention had been pulled in the direction of shore. To the curled locks of a youthful looking brunette. Probably half his age or more, he thought, until she got closer. She was definitely attempting to play the part of someone younger than she was and, for all it mattered, for him she was just someone to behold. A certain radiance was there. And then, just as quickly as she had moved into view, she was now gone.
He turned back to the bay now. Then remembered the coffee shop in which they'd met. Adjacent to a bookstore, the back area a crumbling array of buildings made of brick and wild vines and grasses during the spring and summer months. Their coffee wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst. Sourced from a Guatemalan city through an importer who worked locally, it was seen as a nice hub in a city that had both forgotten its roots and remembered them well in the 10 or so museums that carefully gatekept its secrets and left a nice, touristy glaze for everyone to see.
"What was the name of that place", he said aloud to nobody in particular.
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