The beach could be, in all frankness, a terrifying place when odd constable and aggressive strangers tried to arrest you for taking a few seashells with you, but on days like this, where the grey sea wore a little blue on its surface and the sun almost caressed the skin, without actually managing to burn it, Chéri felt safe here. They almost felt like they could expect something or someone, in the distance, to come and get them… wherever it was they were going.
Chéri felt compelled to stop dead in their tracks. Perhaps all they needed was a little encouragement. The young person turned to the sea, put two fingers in their mouth and whistled long and loud, so much so that even the waves couldn’t entirely drown the sound. They stared at the horizon.
Today, Chéri looked like a young man of extraordinary androgynous looks wearing an ordinary, anonymous brown suit, the same colour as their hair. They had abandoned the jacked on the side and had sleeves and trousers rolled up, so that they could interact with the salty water without actually getting too wet. Their face was goldening in the light and their beautiful green eyes gleamed in the summer sun.
