By Lea Anne Stoughton
Evening tide came in and began filling the rocky pools. Rhythmic sounds of swelling and receding were broken only by seabirds’ chatter. The air was thick with salt. The light of the dying day stained red the foam that rode the gentle waves and welled up in the footprints leading away from the shore.
The rocks surrounding the largest pool had their own red stain.
Her hair reached towards the surface, lifted by bubbles and danced by the current. Her lips parted in a final, lifeless exhalation. Tiny crabs scuttled over her face to investigate the possibilities.
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