Swells And Ripples: A Short Story

Swells and Ripples
The pebble was small and squarish, rubbed like ocean glass– perhaps thousands of miles far away from home, possibly even from a cove just around the bend from the limestone coast. The only person whom the pebble was in any way special to was Alex Dunn, and that was only due to the fact he’d kept the pebble within his right-side pants pocket for nearly two years. Alex held the stone between his fingers, only to tilt it to lay flat against the ridges of his palm, brushing his thumb over the smooth scar-line of white that covered the grey. He adjusted the cane, which leaned on with his spare hand, grunting quietly at the shift of weight on his unbalanced feet.
Despite the two-year relationship between Alex and his pebble,

It had been a Monday, a fairly yellow Monday. Yellow being the prominent word which had stuck in Alex’s mind whenever he thought back to that fairly yellow day.
The sun wasn’t glistening, there was no taste of warmth against his tongue with a lemony aftertaste, no bubbly laughter or sticky wet smiles. There wasn’t much that explained his minds description of that day as ‘fairly yellow’, but he stuck with it nonetheless.
He had been stumbling like a giraffe through a crowd of pedestrians crossing the street; he had been on his way to his usual bistro to meet with his girlfriend of nearly two years: Sarah Fent.
There were many adjectives within the English language to describe Sarah Fent.
Sarah was sullen in all of her gestures and manner; she was touchy, presumptuous, yet helpless against praise and adulation. Sarah veered between unrestrained outbursts of judgement—which she called her 'opinion'—and sudden, uncertain halts, during which she appeared to look towards Alex for praise or

The glass from the corona yellow 1995 Suzuki Sierra rippled and shattered, there was a pressure against his throat that made him sputter, gurgling from laceration; instinctively Alex clawed a hand against the side of his neck, numbly touching the glass shard which embedded into the pulse of his skin, his eyes glistening in terror. Alex could still recall looking down and seeing the ground begin to lap and ripple beneath his feet, his eyes rolling back into your skull. The last thing Alex could remember thinking was the word ‘yellow’, before his head began moving in reverse through blackness; rapidly going through an endless tunnel towards a dimension of