Three Line Tales, Week 178
By Neel Anil Panicker
There was something about the sea that activated all her senses___the sight of the little kids making elaborate sand castles, the redolence of distant lands that blows in with each gigantic froth filled wave that crashes onto to jet black glistening rocks atop which sit lovers fresh from teenhood, holding hands and gazing alternately into one another’s eyes and vast azure waters ahead, the coupling of land and de-coupling of land and water being watched over in unabashed fashion by a veritable congregation of humanity including the haves and havenots.
“It’s ‘coz you’re a Water sign”, her friends would say by way of explaining away her intense fascination for the sea.
They were right, albeit partially, for none knew that there was one another reason why she frequented the beaches every single day____it was under the sands that she had buried all the jewelry her father had bequeathed her a half a century ago in the aftermath of what had then become infamous as the ‘Royal Bank of Scotland Great Bank Heist’.
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