In and Out

My latest entry into Flash! Friday’s weekly contest wherein they provide the word prompt “coming of age” and the above photo and you provide the story, no more than 160 words.

Seawater rifled through my nose. I sputtered and spat, but the water kept coming, unseeing and unrelenting. Misfired neurons in my brain compelled me to put the umbrella out in front, like a sentry against the rush.

Instead, the water folded up my red sentry and sent it careening with the tide.

I ventured out here because the water looked inviting at the time, even magnanimous under the hues of a white and blue sky. But this water was a different breed, a nascent kind, somehow more ferocious, as if it had a sentient mind.

A sentient mind that was saying, “Take her, take her.”

And in the back of those misfired neurons, a small voice said, “Let it.”

The waves continually smacked my breastbone and sprayed tiny rocks against my cheeks. Love hurt; love was meant to cut deep, to burrow in and blossom out of the destruction of meeting parts.

I extended my arms, laid back and floated.

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