You had bested the sandy trudge, and stood at the asphalt’s edge next to her.
The others were still shoreside and invisible. Perfect.
You’d offer to carry her across. Yes. Eons of waiting for the right moment had been worth it.
But all you did was watch.
She gingerly descended onto the scorching parking lot, transforming into a bikini-clad ballerina gliding en pointe with her bare toes and segueing into explosions of clumsy grande jetés. Squealing. Laughing. Moving farther and farther away from you.
Alison Prelusky has a Master of Arts degree in English from Stony Brook University. She has been a professional copywriter for over a decade, and is making an effort to get back into creative work in her spare time. She lives on Long Island.