The sun was relentless and we were restless. The sea at the path’s end looked dusty but Alye still wanted us to dip our toes. The path cut through a durian plantation. No fruit fell in daylight, but the real danger was the parang-wielding guardian who blocked our way. Reckless, and heady with youthful abandon, we bolted, passing a tiny stolen fruit between us like a jagged balloon, laughing even as the thorns pierced our hands. At the breakwater, we dangled our feet. The adrenaline had crystallised into a salted silence. Neither of us knew how to open the prize.
Audrey Tay, when not pandering to her pampered pooch, writes short stories, two of which were published in anthologies.