Between the Flags

A short story

It’s one of those days; Mother Nature has really turned it on. The sky has that crisp sky-blue colour that promises a long, warm Saturday. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a little white cloud. It looks lost and abandoned in the great vastness of blue. It’s not particularly fluffy, it’s not particularly dense – in fact, it’s almost perfect in its insignificance. The palm tree in the corner of the garden gently flutters in the breeze. This is the first proper weekend of summer and it needs to be acknowledged with a visit to the beach.

My phone chimes, it’s Erica telling me that a group of them are already there. I’ve spent the morning in study, but now, anticipation wriggles through me and I can’t help but race to pack for the afternoon. Janis Joplin growls ‘SU-MMERRR time, time, time...’ from the stereo as I slip into a bikini and stuff things into a happy yellow bag.