Wif All My Heawt


All 4 feet of my four-year-old cousin snags my hand (FIVE years ol’! she’ll correct) and pulls me across a sidewalk, down some stairs, and through a break in the fence. I glance at my smiling toes in the sand. Shiny shells. Tire tracks

Wanna play the lava game? I propose. She dashes ahead leaving giggles in her wake. Our feet tumble along the imprints as we keep within the lines despite tempting shells and curly reeds. But to no avail. An acorn.
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