You Hate The Beach.

• Zoe Robson, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2017

That boy is a furious storm and the rainbow afterwards. He is the tangle of your salty hair and the kiss of a sunrise. You hate the beach but you’ll stand in his sand. He’ll swim with you into the ocean and hold you down to drown. The ocean is made of your tears. You’re under the waves now, tumbling, while he cries with the clouds above. He’s harmful, heartless and hazardous but you don’t mind because when you wake up the next morning damp and with him by your side, he will feel like gentle waves caressing your sunken toes. That boy will whisper that he’s sorry with a soft kiss on your lips. He’ll taste like salt. You are the verisimilitude to his chicanery. He won’t look dangerous so you’ll forgive him even if you still feel the sting in your eyes and heaviness in your chest. Don’t forget who caused that nagging feeling of alert in the back of your mind. But you’ll get lost with him in the sheets like you did in the waves. Again.