At the beach

As Jake leaned back in his chair the legs dug deeper into the sand. This new bar was nicer, anyway the other one, no more than a shack had been swept away in a storm. The plastic tables were lined up on the sand with chairs awaiting the others. The ocean was dark and rough as he gazed toward the horizon pocked with ships waiting to enter the harbor. Lei was the only other one there, chatting on her cell phone about someone, presumably a man, who was evil, bad, and not to be trusted. Bad enough that her friend needed to be told several times. The others would be coming along, Jake had taken the shortest route, tired on a friday evening and not being interested in being bathed in sweat, just looking to get to the beach, enjoy the view and have a beer.

The tide was really high tonight, the biggest wave lapping right up to the leg of the table, the steep beach swept mostly clear of the usual trash. There had been talk at the start of last weeks run, some people had seen one or two bodies that had been swept ashore. Victims of unnamed, unseen violence, thrown up onto the land by the tide. One could construct a feeling of menace in the low clouds and increasing dusk.

Carolyn came in, the first of the medium route runners, looking pretty fresh. She had mostly walked, and taken the road instead of trying to follow along the steeply sloping beach and it's loose sand. As the other runners dragged in, the long distancers soaked in sweat, Jake pulled at his Gulder. Lei was off the cell phone now and explaining to someone how she was so busy with her clothes design business.

There was talk of the upcoming marathon, a few were planning on entering, the prize money was good, $50,000 for the winner, good enough to attract enough Kenyans so that no locals had a chance. But that money would bring out a big crowd, even some hopefuls in flip flops who would shoot out ahead and exhaust themselves in a sort distance.

"Have you ever noticed that stall that sells the used flip flops? Along the road as we come out here." Lei asked no one in particular.
"That guy repairs them too. My driver said that for N20 he can fix a broken strap good as new."
"I suppose the raw material is free, just walk along the beach when the tide has gone back out and grab as many as you can."

Jake had noticed a barefoot man, walking along the beach, out of the lights of the bar, with a bundle of some prize findings balanced on his head. The boom box blared "Girl from Ipanema" from inside.