I remember going to the beach when I was young and digging deeply into the sand trying to catch the clams that I knew had to be the ones leaving the bubbling hole at the water’s edge. There’s a comfort to existing in the place that is both land and see, standing with my back to humanity and facing the emptiness of the torrential and calm and deep and churning cold, deep, dark, glimmering water.

Okay… I really like writing prompts and I think I am going to make my contributions a long story written one sentence at a time when I can so the first part is here… And the next will be here…

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