Cleo ran to meet her flapping sloppy seaweed,
spinning it round her head and shoulders like
an African Dervish practicing.
Rose
rolled her eyes in disgust, screamed delicately protecting her skirts;
Cleo collapsed in laughter into the sand at her feet.
It was hot and dazzling. The waves were small and
made merry noises as they performed with gray
pebbles and broke everything up including themselves and
also ruddy striped shells coiled 1 way, another.
Cleo
lifted a lavender 1. "Why are there chambers? Why are there so
many rooms?"
"Why
not?" Rose replied. Streaking sandpipers were
in her brown eyes like silver darts.
Cleo
watched them. "Are you still thinking about them?"
"No,"
Rose lied, "not really."
"Violet,
what a beautiful dress."
"Don't
be silly, Rose."
Rose
shrugged. "For your sake I thought I'd say it before Elaine."
"Your
eyes are wicked today. What have you been up to?" Violet accepted
a cup of tea.
Rose
shrugged.
Violet
eyed her, tipping her head. Rose seemed to
have temporarily displaced her demons or maybe
it was that they had other whims. Rose
would reach a fever pitch of wildness tonight. She
would pursue what she had to den to cleft to private
parlor.
Sun
dappled the lawn cheerfully. The scattered tables were like blooms
upon the green, with cloths
of pink or cream. Violet joined Carrie at 1
counting the myriad steps occasioned by her
very
narrow
lavender
skirt.