The Beachcomber

the beachcomber The Beachcomber She dug her hand deep into the cool damp moxie and closed her eyes. Squishing the moist grains with her fingers in the fury of the day reminded her of afternoons entirely laying in bed wrapped up in clean, white sheets, waiting for an answer. They gave her one of course, or else she would have neer left that room, but she knew that something was left unsaid. Something was just terribly, terribly wrong, and although she couldnt seem to put her finger on it back then, she knew. The tranquillize was okay, she couldve lived with that.

But it was the coldness that scared her; the coldness suspended in the air between them: her mommy washing dishes in the kitchen, degree bent, hair swooped to the side, hiding her left cheek, and her daddy, sitting on the waiting area reading the Sunday paper in silent indifference. She was caught in the middle, with her toys scattered around her, shivering at the coldness of it all. She knew. They told her it would be fun...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com

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