These shorts are made for walking. Or is it boots? I can’t seem to remember how the song goes as I lie on my back. On the beach, squinting at the sun, the taste of bubblegum ice cream still lingering on my tongue. I can hear the delightful squeals of some kids running around on the sand. I can hear the ocean, rising and crashing. The tide coming, sending some people running back onto the beach then as the tide receeds they run after it. Their feet squishing in the freshly wet sand.

I’ve been lying like this for what feels like hours. The sand has crept up my shorts. I wiggle a little, trying to shake it out but I think, I’m just inviting in more sand. The sky is blue. Blue with patches of white puffy clouds. I’ve been staring at the these clouds, making out shapes. I saw a ship earlier. A Cat. An ice cream cone. I can’t make out what shape this is now. Even squinting doesn’t help. Eventually, I give up. I roll over onto my stomach, open my book again. Instantly, I’m transported on another adventure. As more sand creeps up my holiday shorts…

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