by Peggy McFarland

The sun caresses my back. I lay stomach down on my towel, hoping to become the beautiful shade of brown flaunted in Ban de Soleil ads. I breathe deeply the scent of the beach -- part salt, part water, part coconut, part something I call "outside." My breathing blends with the rhythm of the surf. The waves hum a lullaby, the warm breeze strokes my skin -- I am lulled to sleep. Sensuous dreams float above consciousness and below, merging into a handsome bronzed man, skillful hands, insistent lips, until... a cold bucketful of water splashed my back, accompanied by the discordant laughter of two soon-to-be-grounded-for-life sons and one he's-not-getting-any-until-after-his-next-birthday husband.


Peggy McFarland, author of The Actress, loves writing six sentences and is still working on writing many, many sentences all in a row.