“Here,” he said, as he dug up the seashell.
“It’s cold!” she objected, holding her coat around herself firmly.
He smiled, pulling the large, spiny shell from the sand and scrutinizing it. It was perfect, just as he’d left it. He offered it to her.
She took it, pricked her finger on a spine, yelped, dropped it.
“Got you,” he said, pretending.
She made a face and stormed off to the sea of concerned parents, umbrellas, fire pits and cups of hot chocolate.
He buried the offering again.
Some day, a girl would accept the shell.
(Source: velvetdemon.net)
