He knew, often before she did, what was needed. His casual remark midweek, her nodded assent. Saturday morning: lunches packed, headed toward the rising sun and the smell of salt.
Now, when she stands alone by the edge of the sea, she thanks him even though he is not there.
Ellen Sinclair is from Belfast, Maine. She is a retired teacher, counselor, widow, mother, and grandmother, a lover of words and the sea.
“You will be featured on tomorrow’s front page,” the reporter says, switching on his tape recorder, “so you understand the national significance of this interview…”
“As a resident, do you support the beach’s privatization?”
The reporter switches off the recorder.
“An opening quote!” he grins.
Kate Burnham is a pastry chef and writer who can type eighty words a minute. She lives in Toronto, Ontario, with her cat and too many things. She finds people fascinating and longs for library books, but knows she’ll never return them on time.
When he pulls into the garage, he sees the bucket and sand toys on the backseat. He hides them in the trunk, next to the spare tire.
Then he runs his hands over his suit to remove any final grains of sand. He wouldn’t want the kids to be jealous.
Brittany Michelson loves traveling, hiking new mountains, playing with words, snowboarding, and daydreaming.
“‘Let’s go to the beach,’ you said! ‘Let’s go for a walk on the sand with baby Timmy,’ you said! ‘Let’s dress like giant crabs and pretend to kidnap him and take him to a magical underwater utopia full of laughter and song,’ you said! ‘He’ll enjoy it,’ you said…”