The moon sat in the sky like a pumpkin that had been left forgotten and abandoned on the front stoop. Spending all day out of sight, because it was out of mind, but none the less absorbing the rays of the sun, so that in the dark of a cloud covered night (but also in the light of the single constantly burning bulb in front of the door) it stood alone and sagging. Its facial features were becoming compressed to a point of making one question their own vision, and it's rind had faded to something less like autumn leaves and more like, well something orange and faded. But this isn't about pumpkins, its about the moon that was still too low to be quarter sized and stark white, yet it was all the light we had there on that beach.

The hotel was dark because it was abandoned. We'd spent the better part of the night wandering it's halls, moving in and out of rooms, and up and down stairwells. Somewhere deep inside we wondered if maybe we shouldn't be there, but after a couple pulls on our flasks, a joint or two, and a pack of cigarettes between the two of us all we knew was it was right for us to be doing anything as long as we could be around one another just a little longer. There in those dark corridors I stole kisses in the darkest corners of stairway landings, abandoned bedrooms, and dusty hallways.

But now we were on the beach, and it was just as dark, but instead of a steady back beat of creaking walls and laughter, we were serenaded by the sound of waves regularly crashing into the beach crushing shells and rocks and dead things into more sand, and making sure the sand staid sand and didn't get any ambitions about being anything more then sand. But it was there in the dark of the moon that was still too low to be bright that the kisses were no longer stolen but given with an enthusiasm that almost pulled us down to the sand, for restraint had been abandoned somewhere in the darkness of the hotel.