Sally only shivers slightly as she lowers herself into the lapping waves that meet the cobbled slipway. The cold sea licks the fading tan on her rounded shoulders and she submerges her head, her breath only catching a little in the December air as she resurfaces. She glides through the heavy water with a strong breaststroke, her legs thrashing.
After drying herself with a large, scratchy towel, she claws her bobbed, pink hair behind her ears with g fingers and putts her pink square glasses on
She'd found love notes on red post it notes. They were scrunched up in jacket pockets and she read them over and over whilst sitting at her mother's bedside, as she slowly faded away. She’d found out through his complete disinterest in keeping it a secret whilst she was wading through a metallic grief.
She had worn the same blouse at her mother's funeral to her divorce proceedings. There was still a barely visible dark splash of red wine on the cuff. After, she had aimlessly walked around the high street when she saw some pink sandals in the front of a shoe shop, they were children's jelly sandals. The pull and push of wet sand and sea water passing through her little toes, running back to the hot, white beach where her mother was reading a romance novel, fierce and light. She clung to that flicker, that feeling, and weeks later she cut her hair and had it dyed bright pink at the salon. Her grey hair eclipsed by this new vibrancy.
Later that day she saw her now ex-husband and his expression was one of shock, amusement and a glimmer of fear. That was enough. She knew they'd become strangers.
About the author
Charlotte Parsons lives in Cornwall and works as an online English teacher as well as a barista in a small village cafe. She spends all of her spare time reading or writing fiction.
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