Footprints

I suppose that you could say that I sell eternity. Or the IDEA of eternity... Of permanence.

It started with a stupid row. A stupid argument on the last day of our holiday. We were due to fly back that afternoon but we had a stupid row and she flew back and I didn't. I stayed here and got into the eternity-selling business.

It happened like this... We had the argument. I can't even remember what it was about. Or, to be more truthful, I CAN remember exactly what it was about but I don't want to talk about it. I don't come out of it very well. Anyway, we had the argument, the stupid argument, and she stormed off back to the apartment and, even though I was yelling at myself, telling myself to go after her, I didn't move. I just looked at her wet footprint on the rock at the edge of the beach. And, even as I looked, I could see that it was drying out and that it would soon disappear. And it suddenly seemed vitally important that I didn't let that happen - even more important than going after her. I had a pencil in my pocket so I drew round the damp outline and then I scratched round the pencil line with my penknife. Without letting myself think that she was probably out of the apartment and heading for the airport by now, I dug out the footprint a little with the knife. The stone was quite soft and it was surprisingly easy to do. It ended up looking just like the countless footprints in the sand just below the rock.

A small boy was watching as I finished. A few minutes later, he came back with his parents who asked me if I would do the same thing for their boy's footprint. I wasn't keen but the dad produced a five Euro note and it struck me that I had spent pretty well all of my holiday money. Somehow, I couldn't face going to the airport and trying to get any money back on my flight. And I was scared that I might see her there or that I wouldn't see her there. So I got the boy to stamp a wet footprint on the rock - a little bit away from her footprint - and I carved that out too and the dad gave me the five Euros.

Word obviously got around because, after that, people kept asking me to do their feet too. I must have done hundreds over the summer. I have a sign that says "A small corner of Paradise can always be yours" and I charge six Euros for adults and four Euros for kids. People like it. And it gives me something to do and enough money to keep on here - I stay in one of the apartments if they haven't all been let (the cleaners let me in for a few Euros) or on the beach if there isn't anywhere else.

Of course, we all know that these footprints won't really last for ever. They may be carved in rock, but it's really soft, crumbly rock. The oldest footprints, over here, are already looking old and weathered. Hers is the oldest but it doesn't look too bad. But, wait a minute, her footprint was definitely pointing back to the apartments - she was already heading back - but this one is turned towards the sea... So... So which one is really hers?