When I spotted you sunning yourself in the lap of that lizard I could not help but stare. The air was soft and thick like your famous chocolate chip cookies. Back then, before we met, I already felt their sweet aftertaste in my mouth.
I remember how you yelled when your feet burned on the hot sand while running from your pet to the ocean. I wanted a lizard, too, and tried to catch one as it ran by.
A turtle noticed my attempt and told me that my technique was all wrong. I listened to her stories and she listened to mine. I was especially interested in her gossip about your lizard.
The turtle and I went on and on while your lizard lounged nearby and you swam out to the island and back again.
I smiled at the turtle as you reached the shore and ran back to your lizard. You threw something towards me and it hit my cheek. It was the smallest piece of driftwood that the ocean could carve and was all it took for us to spend a lifetime on the beach, between lizard and turtle, always finding another excuse to stay.
A body in motion 
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