The Two Shores, page 7 of 12

Pip carries the small curled shell down the shore towards the spring tide, which runs up the sand and stops well short of the old hollow, unhurried.

On the first proud tide of spring, the water came up the sand as far as it still knew how.

Pip walked down to meet whatever arrived.

Past the sandbar, the same hour, Dawn rose to her surface, for no reason she would have given.

© 2026 A.J.Sharpe