Something's Fishy

The beach and I have a love/hate relationship. For as much love I adorn the water, I hold the same contempt for the sand. Chills run down my spine as soon as the sand touches my toes and it seems to say in my hair for weeks. It clings to your skin like leeches, needing a scratchy towel to finally rub it all off. I'd much rather a nice green pasture that slowly transitioned into water, or better yet, drop me off in the middle of the ocean- I'd like that.

A well-built young man in his twenties pounces on an unseen object in the middle of a grassy store front. After lazy smile and an adjust of his swim trunks, he crouches and pounces again. A small white butterfly just escapes his grasp and flutters out into the street. I wonder about the man's intrigue in the insignificant insect. He pushes his floppy blond hair out of his eyes and jumps over the fence and into the street. As I take a quick look back, I can still see the man dancing with his butterfly in the middle of traffic, not yet reaching his goal. Or is he?

After arriving home from the beach, a sort of sedation seeps into my body. It starts in my limbs, travels to my eyes and and ends in my spine. My skin and hair feel rougher than normal and emit a salty aroma. It is a nostalgic smell that makes me even more tired. My young cousin says I smell like fish.