Jag

Jag rolled up the bottoms of his corduroy trousers and headed into the sea. He wasn't going far, just wanted the sensation of cool water licking at his feet as he smoked a cigarette. It was a sensation of other, of being elsewhere, and it was a balm on his soul, temporary though it was. The set of his shoulders relaxed slightly as his feet planted themselves in the wet sand, wavelets rushing at his bare ankles.