The Beachcomber

the beachcomber The Beachcomber She dug her hand deep into the cool damp grit and closed her eyes. Squishing the moist grains with her fingers in the fury of the day reminded her of afternoons only when laying in bed wrapped up in clean, white sheets, hold for an answer. They gave her one of course, or else she would have neer left that room, but she knew that something was left unsaid. Something was just terribly, terribly wrong, and although she couldnt seem to put her finger on it back then, she knew. The quieten was okay, she couldve lived with that.

But it was the backwardness that scared her; the coldness suspended in the air between them: her mommy washing dishes in the kitchen, score bent, hair swooped to the side, hiding her left cheek, and her daddy, sitting on the waiting area reading the Sunday paper in mute indifference. She was caught in the middle, with her toys scattered around her, shivering at the coldness of it all. She knew. They told her it would be fun...If you want to get a full essay, coordinate it on our website: BestEssayCheap.com

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