It was cold, not frigid, but the wind was biting. Good, that meant I had the beach to myself.
The stark late winter sun turned the summer vacation site into a monochrome fantasy, an old silverplate photo from a bygone era.
I shared this world away with only a single soul who, thankfully, was walking the other direction, his form silhouetted by the low, southern sun.
Typically, a walk, any walk, gets the creative juices flowing, fires the imagination, sends a spark of creativity that wakes the system. A walk on the beach? Paradise for the muse!
But not today…
Word count = 100
Yeah, yeah, the missing muse story seems to be a common thread on FF, but some days we just draw a total blank.