BEACH

I sat next to her. She was lying face down on a towel. We had never met. The tide came closer and closer. I hadn’t spoken a single word to her, ever, and there we were, both threatened by the water. A large wave pounded towards us. I dragged myself back.

The tip of her toes and her towel got wet; she was upset because I should have let her know that the tide was coming.

We ran for higher ground, in the hot sand she held up her hand and told me her name, but I didn’t catch it because my feet were burning and I was jumping around, yelping.

I threw my towel down like an island and stepped on, she jumped on.

“Can I share your towel with you, because mine’s wet?”

We stood on my towel, like an island, in the hot sand, on the crowded beach, staring out at the sea, awkwardly.

The sun went down and the sea went away.