Ghost

Sand, wind- Wasteland. Not like the beach I remember. The water is still there and I am too But it isn’t, and I’m not. Laying here, the sun shines on me in my dark room. It was there. Like me, it remembers. Please, I ask let me sleep. I squirm around and kick up little clouds in the sky Like the ones I remember. Please, I beg. The ice in my cup crackles and the tides inch closer to my feet. I get up and start running for the boardwalk when I trip, fall back into her arms. Ghostly hands stroke my arms as I crumble. Frozen, I bathe in the light. I succumb to the sun.

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