Nights of Formication

The air was cool next to the sea. It carried well the nervous laughter of people who had met for the first time. Long periods of uncomfortable silence. Their eyes flitted about the darkening coast, resting not on each other's face for fear of awkwardness. Their minds raced though, in want of saying something sharp-witted to break the uncomfortable silence. Well, it wasn't really a true silence, it was scattered with the sounds of a little boy slapping at his legs, muttering 'damn bugs'.

Of course, as the night wore on, they grew more accustomed to each other, and words flowed more freely. There still was the sense of mindfulness about what they said, but that only goes away between good friends. There was more talk and laughter, but beneath all that there still continued the slap and smack and 'damn bugs'.