A Day at the Beach

I dipped my hands in the Pacific Ocean, sucked sea-salt from my fingertips.

The ocean was the same feather grey as the fog and the driftwood. When I ran, sand kicked up to the backs of my knees.

I picked up a smooth white stone and carried it on my tongue. It had a speck of moss green, green like the treeline, so close to the beach. It felt so sudden, green growth dropping off into grey sand and sky.

The tide was going out, leaving dark orange sea stars behind. Someone had drawn hearts in the sand — elsewhere, the three-toed footprints of a bird. The water was cold and clean and clear.