Shell Game

Inspired by a writing exercise I recently did  …

Lucinda picked the seashell up from the sand at her feet. It was fairly small, and felt warm and comforting in her hand. Perhaps this would help her hang on to some positive memory of Daytona Beach. There had been so much negative that had happened, so much drama, she was hoping she could distill at least a little something pleasant out of it.

shell-on-beachLucinda toyed with the shell and thought of the postcard she’d sent off to Gran yesterday. It depicted a beautiful beach scene, with palm trees and people laughing and playing. Her note had said simply, “Having a great time. Deepening my tan. Miss you!” Lucinda had omitted adding, “See you soon!” Not only would she not be seeing Gran soon, she was having anything but a great time in Daytona. But how could she have burdened her grandmother with the fact that her bags had been stolen, leaving her with only the clothes she was wearing and the odds and ends in her pockets?

She was also not at all ready to explain to Gran that she wasn’t coming back to Montana, that she couldn’t. She felt called – or more like summoned – to return to Puerto Rico. There were half-buried memories coming to life inside her; there was the cryptic letter from her old friend Marguerite. And there was the encounter with that mysterious stranger. She’d danced with him at La Placita in San Juan and thought nothing of it. So how was it he had suddenly shown up here in Daytona Beach?

Lucinda was resolute. She had to return to Puerto Rico, stolen luggage notwithstanding. The funds to get there were an obstacle, but she couldn’t let that stop her. She set off down the beach, turning over options in her mind, clutching the seashell in her hand.

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