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One

(Stop.

Stop, no, don't- don't go out that far.

Please. Stay where I can see you from the shore.

No that's- wait, fu- No. That's the opposite of what I said.)

Catch up and follow me, no need to bring your shoes if a crab tries to bite you you can just jump away like this see? Try to step on as many little snails as you can they're trying to take over the world you know, don't step on the snails by the sea grass though, they'll call the cops on you! But that's not where we're going anyway, no, we're going to walk all the way to England, we're already halfway there, wow- look back at the shore we must be ten miles out!

(Well, maybe. I guess this isn't so bad.

Ow, no. Don't -please don't- pull my arm like that. I'm right behind you.

Yeah. I remember this.

I remember why I liked this.)

I knew you'd come around! We're not done yet, look at all the land we have to cross, high tide isn't for another four hours and the sun won't set until I tell it to! It's amazing though isn't it?! Just take it all in, look how beautiful the sand looks, parallel lines curving and moving like rows of carefully planted corn. See how the water saturates your footsteps, creating tiny pools like breadcrumbs in the forest. Remember those! The rock fish! If you step on it you die!

(Heh, yeah. If you step on it you die...

Hey- maybe- no, um- hey.

Nevermind.

It smells nice out here. It smells nice.

Wait, do you think we could build a sandcastle?)

Of course! Come! Sit right next to me, let's see who can build it higher. No! Stop you can't build it like that, using handfuls of yellow sand! That's cheating- look, remember? You have to dig down a little deeper--

(...I have to dig down a little deeper...)

--and use the black sand like this; here, take a handful- it's really easy, like quicksand- and drip drip drip it into a pile. Watch how it solidifies like a mass of melted wax; watch how each drop steadily builds the tower higher. Just keep going, don't stop when you realize that you're creating a moat of dirty marshy water around you. Don't stop when you feel that the sand you're sitting in has gotten into every place it shouldn't. Don't stop when you see those terrifying horses of flies circling like vultures. Don't stop when you begin to know that your castle will soon fall over

(Don't stop when you realize that this whole thing is meaningless.)

...............

(...)

Is that how you really feel? That this whole thing is meaningless? Have you really forgotten every summer of trekking out as far as you dared, pretending to run from the ocean once it started to come back in? Have you forgotten how fun it was, even when your flip flops got eaten by the vacuum of marshy sand; even when you got bitten by what you swear was the largest crab you've ever seen? Have you forgotten just being outside, letting the wind do your hair and the sun tan your skin; rubbing sand out of your eyes with salty hands and laughing so loud even the people on shore could hear your smile?

(I- I don't.

It's different now. The sand isn't as beautiful anymore.

We aren't more than 400 yards out. Not ten miles.

The rock fish are just rocks.

The sun hurts and the salt stings.

Snails aren't trying to hurt anyone.

I remember- but, but...)

When did you change. When did your long run on sentences, full of gratuitous phrases and awkward word order turn into clipped precise words. When did your overuse of confident exclamation points get traded in for a slew of hesitant dashes? When did virtual walls of paragraphs turn into one line statements? When did dozens of repeated questions and sentiments and whatever the hell else get condensed into a single line of saturated meaning?

(When did my memories stop feeling like my own?)

It's not easy, only living in picture frames; never being thought of fondly. Only making guest appearances in forced memories and nightmares. It's not easy being forgotten. I just want to walk again. To stretch my legs and run circles around you as you fix your gaze on the horizon and accept the sun into each and every fiber of your being. I just want to be you again.

(You're better off living in the picture frames.

Being me isn't as good as being you.)

...I see...

(Oh. You win. My sandcastle fell over.)