jingle jangle

best friends. summertime girls. dancing along the edges of the surf.

naming waves. "metapod" "little big one". giggling and giddy.

sitting down in the gathering foam and calling it horses. or maybe it was unicorns. there's a legend about the breaking foam of the sea and the extinction of said creatures.

slim strikes a kitty cat pose in the shallows. bess stands a few feet back.

behind slim a wave swells big. i call to her "stand up." but the ocean's roar fills her ears.

i start to run as it breaks over her. my eyes lock on the space where she went under. i run, but don't feel my feet touching down. or the cold beat of the water against my legs. the jingle jangle of a crowded beach falls silent in my ears.

i'm there now. but she isn't. the water swirling and sandy. foamy and breaking anew. i search with my eyes and hands.
the tide goes out as i find her hair. pull her up. her face and hair caked in wet sand. water pours from her nose.

she says "that was weird." her voice breaking.

i instinctively try to pick her up. she swats my arms away like bothersome flies. she's already walking away. calling to bess.

"let's look for sand crabs."