A beach ball bounces down on your head and you feel so small because you know what will be said: Ha, ha, you can’t even catch because you’re a geek. Tears fall. You grab a shovel and pail, quick as you can, run out far along the beach and start to dig a hole. You dig and dig and dig until your arms tire. Sweat drips. You sit beside the hole and wait. A cloud blows across the sky, blocks the noon sun, and the wind picks up, so much it picks up hundreds of beach towels and straw hats and sunglasses, along with boys. When the wind calms, the boys happen to be right above you and the hole you dug. You pick up the shovel, arms rested and ready, because you know what happens after things go up.
Louella Lester is a writer/photographer in Winnipeg, Canada, author of Glass Bricks (At Bay Press 2021), contributing editor at New Flash Fiction Review, and is included in Best Microfiction 2024 & 2026. Her writing/photos appear in variety of journals.
Awesome as always, Louella. Niles
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