The sharp tang of vinegar and the soft curve of her cheek pull me from where I linger. A change from seaweed and jagged rocks.
She gazes out to sea, clutching a bag of chips like a life raft. Tears in familiar eyes make my chest ache, but I can’t think…
I don’t know…
I’m not sure…
My tiny shadow wraps her cold hand in mine. “Daddy, don’t you remember?”
I glance behind us. Only one set of footsteps trail across the beach, and I find it difficult to breathe.
My little girl tugs my hand. Insistent. Why is she so wet? I hold her tight against me and try to absorb her shivers.
“You tried to save me,” she whispers in my ear.
The woman is weeping now, and she hurls cold chips into the sea. Seagulls swoop and feast, their piercing squabbling slice through the lonely sound of the waves.
I look between the child in my arms and the woman radiating despair. Memories claw their way to the surface and burst free. My chest is in agony. It burns as I suck in air, and my heart cracks into a million pieces.
“Martha?” My cry carries on the salted breeze.
She spins around in the sand, scattering the remaining chips. Her wild eyes range over the dunes, the rocks and the vast stretch of beach, perfect for lazy summer days.
She looks right through us.
