Five Minutes at the Beach

I park my car in the lot, get out and trudge down to the shore on what is referred to as sand.

After taking off my shoes and slinging my pack onto my back the gravel cuts into my flesh. Softness and warmth do not come to mind as I walk as far along the shore as my burned feet will take me.

My brain says, “Enough get your shoes back on and get back to your car.”

I heed its warning and slip my feet back into my shoes and start back up the hill, away from what is called a beach, to the parking lot overlooking it.

My brain speaks to me once again and this time asks me a question, “Does this body of water have a fragrance, or even a smell? Perhaps the pleasant waft of salt water might be sniffed”

Again I try to do what it says and again there is nothing. What’s going on? This is after all a beach. But I guess it is not the ocean I have been used to my whole life.

I suppose I should just take it for what it is to me.
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Tags: flash fiction

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