This is the 93rd installment of a 100-day challenge to write a new vignette every morning.
It was the best sandcastle he had ever seen. The towers rose up in perfect symmetry, and the moat promised alligators—if only it were real. Simon could imagine tiny merchants traveling back and forth across a drawbridge, and he considered making a neighboring kingdom to expand the world.
He could’ve stared for hours, but his sister crushed the castle with her foot. Sand oozed out from under her sole and between her toes. Simon gasped and bit back the only swear word he knew: goddamnit.
The destruction could’ve been any 5-year-old’s misstep—but Sylvie wasn’t just any 5-year-old. He saw the glint in her eyes as she skipped back to their beach towel. She pulled a juice box from the family cooler and sipped as if nothing had happened. When she finished, she looked directly at him and crushed the juice box.
Grape juice dripped from her hand, and Simon regretted ever decapitating her teddy bear.
Miles Away 