“Yeah, sorry,” I mumbled, my head still attached to the cool face of the desk. There’s no such thing as naptime in high school.” “Sydney, Sydney,” she said, purposefully speaking in a high-pitched voice, “I don’t remember earning my master’s degree to teach preschoolers. I fiddled with my pencil as I dozed off, listening to my teacher drone on about the importance of something I do not really know or care about. It still fits, just like the day I made it. I smile to myself as I try the bracelet on, tears forming little puddles at my feet. A woven bracelet, a piece of fabric, a map, a seashell, and a letter. I slowly open my right eye, barely peeking inside.Īfter what feels like hours of stalling, I finally open it, fully examining the contents inside like it is not the millionth time I’ve done so. Only one step left, open your eyes, open them now! I hold my breath as I rip the top open, the first time I have done so in weeks.īoth of my eyes remain closed as I feel the weight of the world lifting off my shoulders. My heart pounds as the world seems to dim around me, the bag acting as the only source of light, knowledge, and hope within this void of temporary darkness. I’m going to have to sometime in the future, might as well rip the bandage off and do it now. I use it to brush the sand off my hands, and then hold it to my chest, pausing to reflect on my decision.ĭo I dare open it? I shouldn’t, I can’t. I turn over and push myself off the ground, hands digging into the sand, and storm over to the bag. If I give into your game now, it’ll stop. My eyes practically roll into the back of my head.įine, I think to myself, if this is how you want to play, so be it. The wind blows once more, harder this time, causing the straps of the bag to fling in the other direction. The bag is taunting me, just lying there, patiently waiting for the moment I decide to give in and open it. The distant cries of seagulls-I look to my right once again I cannot help it. I return to my original stance, adjusting my legs so they do not fall asleep.Ī small breeze continues to stir, blowing grains of sand further along the shoreline. My face burning with rage, I grab it with my hands and throw it as far as I can, hearing it fall after slamming into a wall of rock. I do not know why I brought it here, the stupid thing. I look to my right and glance at the drawstring bag sitting against my leg, begging to be opened. As I stare at the ground, I use my index and middle fingers to trace patterns into the sand. The distant cries of seagulls circling, looking for their next meal to steal.Īll I can focus on is what is directly in front of me. The low sound of dark blue waves crashing onto the shore.Ī small breeze stirring, blowing grains of sand into a bank covered by various grasses.
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