Yellow Beach

The paramedics arrived and took over. The girl was put on a stretcher and taken away with her mother. When the crowd had gone George rummaged in the sand with the toe of his tennis shoe, looking for the broken glass. He found what had cut the girl, but it wasn’t glass.


In the evening George was sitting at a café on the promenade. He’d finished eating and was drinking coffee.

“Can I buy you another?” the woman asked.

George looked up and saw the mother of the girl who had cut her foot.

“Oh,” George said as he stood. “How is … how is Claire?”

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)