It was after summer that Nora started to sink. Just footsteps a little deeper than usual; she saw them as she came back on her walk, comparing her outgoing, energetic pace to her homecoming, philosophical one. The prints were firm and well defined in the hard wet sand, but deep, and she tried to remember whether she had been running. But the toeprints were too clean, and besides, running, at her age? Examined, her memory yielded only sand dollars, seagulls, and seals. For a sand dollar, one stooped, for a seal, one stopped. One might run for seagulls, she supposed, or a dog might.
“Adaptations to Coastal Erosion”
About the story: A woman inexplicably begins to sink.
Stolen from a Jonathan Carroll line.