white sunlight glancing off wet hair, the slurp and gurgle of cool water in the filters and the spitter spat of children running barefoot across tan paving. a small girl shivering deep into an oversized towel, her lips pulled back over chattering teeth as she grins at the sky. she watches swallows flip and twirl and cleave the blue. other children shout and beckon from the water, wet hair pasted across their eyes, wet fingers gripping white at the edge of the pool. she emerges from her cotton cocoon and pads across towards the glistening blue, gripping her shoulders.
her mother aside, spread wide across a white plastic sun lounger, her shimmering limbs baking, her face hidden by a damp novel. her eyes peer over oily pages and she watches the pink splash and waits for her daughter's face to break the surface before finding her place in the print between her fingers. her thoughts trail and she drifts towards the brink of sleep. large heavy sunglasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. a lazy hand rises to rescue them.
grandmothers escape the heat in the shade of trees, remembering. their pasty bodies folded inside faded swimsuits. they laugh through yellowed teeth and lean shoulders and point at the youth of today. a group of children waving bright plastic rings patters by and the sun lifts the wet prints behind them.
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