Number nine, my regular attraction. You picked me up, we drove to the beach. The sky was getting grey and waves corroded the wet sand and dragged it back like ink. I dipped my toes in the water and you laughed at me, like I was the dumbest dog on the beach.
We sat on the sand together and talked. That sort of flat talk that carries time quickly. You on your back, my head on your ribs, your arm curled around me. We lay there in the dark, listening to each other and the sea and kissing lazily in and out, like old hands. Thank you for cheering me up.
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