The channels of wet sand meandered like stretch marks towards the sea. They considered the patterns, wondered whether to follow one of these transient lines to its conclusion, walk together into the incoming tide. Behind them a dog barked and a man’s voice sliced through the stiff breeze. Under the sea they would be safe, no more explaining and paying, a haven from bailiffs and creditors. The man and his dog were making their way back to the high tide mark. Around their feet the lines in the sand began to glisten.
3 Comments
Sue Clayton
21/4/2024 04:30:38 am
A tempting tide.
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Glo Curl
22/4/2024 05:18:44 pm
If only there had been another turning of the tide.
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