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Monday 10 December 2012

Create an (atmosphere) ...

5.00pm: Las Canteras Beach – Isleta – Las Palmas

Carlos scooped up the change from the cuenta of the last of the late lunchtime diners.  It would be quiet now until nine o’clock.  This was the part of the day he liked best.  A little cooler, it was when the half- board tourists would stroll along the paseo before having their hotel suppers at an hour unthinkable to the Spanish. 

He looked beyond the stone benches - where a guitarist had played softly for the last half hour - along the curve of the bay towards the volcanic hills behind.  The sun would set soon.

His attention, though, was drawn to a man and a woman leaning against the railings above the beach.  They were kissing with the intensity of new lovers, cleaving to each other, oblivious of a girl who skimmed past them on roller blades, swerving to avoid a bronzed, silver haired couple in matching white trousers and t-shirts.

The lovers were in their late thirties, he judged - his age.  She was a little plump in tight pink tracksuit trousers and her blond hair revealed dark roots; his hair was thinning from the front and he wore sunglasses which reflected the determination in her face.  Their kissing and clutching and stroking had a desperate quality to it – as if by holding each other so closely love would not slip this time.  Little lower than angels, mused Carlos.

He waved to a fellow camarero, turned towards the kitchen and once again thought of his wife in Cuba.

© Tim Scott
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