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Once, Marin lay on the beach for hours, staring at the sun. Not directly, of course, but close enough that her eyes watered every few seconds, and she had to keep wiping them dry. Her head lay directly on the sand, and it'd be horrible getting all the grains out later. It'd take forever. She didn't actually know how long it'd take, though. This was why she was staring at the sun to begin with.
She stared and stared and counted the seconds. Waves crashed against her feet every 300 seconds or so. There were at least three seagull cries every five seconds. The sun, of course, did not move. A thousand, two thousand, three thousand, and she lost the count and started again. Got to five thousand this time before losing the thread. The sun hadn't moved. She started again.
It was getting late. It felt like it was getting late. Her eyes kept blinking shut, her head felt fuzzy, she lost count about every eighty seconds or so now. How long had it been? 3000 + 5000 + 4300 + 4000 + 4000 + 4000 + 800 + 2400 + 1700 + 400 + 1200 + 2100 + 600 + 750 + 1000 + 400 + 300 + 550 + 500 + 200 + 200 + 150 + 100 + 80 + 80 + 80 + 80... Wait, had she gotten that wrong? How many times had she lost count at around four thousand? It wasn't three, she didn't think. Two? Four? She couldn't remember. She'd lost count of how often she'd lost count.
Either way, it was long. Marin was no good at math, but that was hours. It wasn't just her, it really should be getting late.
The sun had not moved. It was high noon.
It had used to move. She remembered sleeping. She and Tarin had gotten ready together, brushed their teeth in tandem, crawled under the covers at the same time, said goodnight in chorus. They hadn't done that in a long time. How long? How long had it been?
How long had it been high noon?
"Always," said the kids when she asked, said Tarin when she asked, said the animals when she asked. They did not remember sleeping. What are you talking about? Don't be silly. It wasn't time for bed yet, couldn't you see? It was high noon.
She stared, and the sun stared back. Her eyes watered. Her head felt fuzzy. There was something in her chest, buried deep within, but it was out of reach; she could not tell you what it was. But it had gotten stuck there, however long ago, at high noon, and it was starting to overflow. Slowly, it had begun to fill her lungs. It was getting difficult to breathe around. Nobody seemed to know what she was talking about when she mentioned that, either.
Her eyes were getting heavy, but it was only noon. But she was so tired, so tired that even the thought of getting up made her eyes water. She could barely see the sun through her tears, and she no longer had the energy to wipe her eyes. Thinking was so difficult; her head was so fuzzy it hurt, a whining ache behind her eyes. Maybe she'd sleep for just a bit; a nap never hurt anyone. She closed her eyes and felt the headache slip away.
When she woke, it was high noon. She stood up and shook her dress out. Frowned. Looked around. Why had she come here again? For a walk? Yes, it'd been for a walk, right? She'd just laid down for a second to rest her eyes.
The sun hung in the air and its light caught on the sea foam, little rainbow bubbles resting on the beach, popping as she walked through them. It really was a beautiful day. She felt like singing.