The gringo stripped out of his suit, shirt, tie, and boxer shorts. Kicked off his shoes and stood barefoot in the sugar-white searing sands on the deserted Mexican beach. Hatless and high, he hallucinated in seconds.
She materialized, coolly impudent in the churning turquoise sea, wearing only his bow tie for a bikini. Her mirage shimmered, resplendent in the radiate heat of the noonday sun.
He closed his eyes against the glare. When he opened them, the vision of loveliness had vanished, leaving only a wilted necktie, snaking in the surf.
submitted at 10:15pm
14 October 2010
John Brooke writes to entertain; with poems, short stories, flash fiction, novels, articles, essays and screenplays. He lives in a fishing village in Baja California Sur, Mexico.