Frustrated, I slow my pace as the wind whips the words from my ears. Removing my earbuds, I hear a cry. My eyes search the frenzied ocean until a hand appears, reaching skyward. The pier is empty. The lifebuoy is a severed rope. A head bobs, disappears into the froth. I whip off my jeans, buckle myself to the handrail, then creep down the wet steps. “Grab it!” I throw one leg of my jeans outwards. It returns. I try again and again with the same result. Finally, a woman is attached. My arms ache as I pull her closer.
Susan Condon holds an MA in Creative Writing from Dublin City University and has previously studied writing in NUI Maynooth and the Irish Writers Centre.