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Waking

The sand envelopes my bright pink toes, painted earlier that iced tea afternoon. Printed green, soft yellow, and coral pink chairs sing cleanly as we sit against their white wicker backs. The waves glitter and roll, playing tricks for our shining, smiling faces.
My legs lift me to a stand as my hands sand brush off the back of my warmed thighs. He stands beside me; I dare him to catch me with a single glance as I gallop towards the water. The cold splashes when my head dips under smoothly, cutting the flow with my hands layered one over the other. My neck pulls me up for air, a thin gloss of water dripping back into the open sea. The salt pulls my hair into uneven, wavy strands of wet brown. Content, my body rests, letting the water cradle me in her soft grip.

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