Tan Lines

by Anita Hunt

It's raining. I'm sitting on the sand, at the beach, on one of the hottest days in August, and it's raining. The sand is warm between my toes but the surf is turning gray and rough, attracting surfers like ants to the splattered remains of an ice cream cone on the sidewalk. As the waves baste me in salt water, a flock of gulls retreat from the open sea, flying over my head; I don't look up (I'm no fool) even as they taunt me with cries of dummy, dummy, dummy for not seeking shelter from the storm. Soaked in sea water, breaded in sand, I run for my car, dodging the rain drops, a string of seaweed stuck in my hair for decoration. It's raining harder.

6S

Anita Hunt is a high school art teacher, an artist, a mom, a grandma and a Professor of Neat Stuff.