A stone spoke to me on the beach, round and warm in my hand. It turned into a figure of sea breeze and mist.
I was a sailor, he said. Now I'm a ghost of a man. But once I knew a girl in Lisbon, brown eyes and short bobbed hair. What I wouldn't give to hold her again. I wanted our kisses to last forever. But that was years ago!
He touched me, and I could feel the salt on my face. I remembered the bright water in the sun, as my heart rose and fell with the waves.
Author bio: Voima Oy lives on the western rim of Chicago, near the expressway and the Blue Line trains. Her writing can be found online at Paragraph Planet, 101 Fiction, Unbroken Journal, Vignette Review, Molotov Cocktail – Flash Worlds, Burning House Press, and The Cabinet of Heed.
Follow her on Twitter, too— @voimaoy and #vss365.
Salt is part of 101 Fiction issue 21.
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