Usually he slept through her early morning swim or at most was pouring coffee as she flip-flopped out the door, towel over her shoulder. Today they both arose early. Today he watched her disappear down the beach path.
Today, her flip-flops and towel left behind, she walked where waves erased her footsteps, stopped finally to face the dawn-jeweled ocean. The deep breath she drew before plunging in was sweet with the scent of beach roses.
Today she floated, let the rip current carry her out beyond the breakers, far away from shore. Today she wouldn’t make her doctor’s appointment.
Carrot Ranch. September 14, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a riptide. How can it be used to move a story? It could be a stretch of turbulent water or a pull of another kind. Go where the prompt leads even if you find it unexpected. Respond by September 19, 2017 to be included in the compilation (published September 20). Rules are here. All writers are welcome!