I've
run away from home, and am living at a
seaside town. I'm wandering back along the
rocks to the place where my boyfriend and I (we seem to be living together in this new life) first had
sex. It is a place where orange, grainy rocks meet
the sea, where the sun shines down and warms the flat surface of the one rock that is horizontal rather than vertical, a perfect platform for
outdoor fun.
However, a tour seems to be going through the same place. And in this tour are my parents. So I go back to the bigger tourist town nearby, planning on going back to my own life soon after. Unfortunately, I am roped into taking a bus tour with them, and, oddly enough, find myself taking care of two little girls: One is the six-year-old whose family I stayed with for three weeks on my spring break back in March, and the other is my twelve-year-old Down's Syndrome cousin, who I am meeting again for the first time after two years.
I never do get back to that seaside town.