Wednesday, July 3, 2013

fence and feign

The fence along the beach helped to keep Moira at ease.  If someone complained something wasn’t fair, she’d only point to the fence as if it had all the answers.  She could enjoy luxury without worrying about getting close to the ocean’s tide which was what she feared most.  She thought the sea maliciously wanted to drown her, but not before burning her with its saltiness.

Sometimes the surfers got close to the fence and, at the sight of them, she’d recede into her familiar crowd.  Blending in was the very best way to hide, but there were also tons of proud balloons—conventional ones—behind which she felt safe and happy.

Occasionally surfers defied the fence by leaning their boards against it and climbing over.  Whenever she saw one do it, she made sure to withdraw into her crowd as soon as possible. 

However, sometimes it couldn’t be helped.  Sometimes they extended a hand, sopping wet from the ocean, in greeting.  When they did, Moira didn’t know whether to harass them or feign acceptance in the hopes they would venture back to the other side of the fence.  So she did both.  As of late she usually chose to fake reception, but the ocean knew.  Underneath her skin she feared and despised the surfers.


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