I lie back on the sand and let the tide come.
It’s been months since they left. They said they would be back. They promised. They told me that it was just going to be for a little while and then they’d text or call.
Nothing.
A wave takes my phone, and I see the screen light up one last time, a silent scream into the oblivion of foam. Little sandbugs burrow by my fingers. Another rush bears me up and carries me into the surf.
They won’t have to worry anymore. I’m home now, submerged, and I go under.
bohemian.on.rye 