When Water Returns to the Salt Edged Shore

Jenny Wong


Lungs sputter, barter water for air. 

Pupils cringe at their re-introduction to morning sun.

The swimming instructor watches my struggles, tinted in the orange-dawn glow. When I gasp back onto soft sand, he picks away at my body with his words. The weak bend of my joints. The shallow shelf of my breath. His arms stroke skyward to demonstrate how his swimming prowess overshadows mine. 

His body will wash up three days later, spine bent, a breached reminder that finless, warm-boned curiosities are no match for the underneathness of unsettled sea.


Jenny Wong is a writer, traveler, and occasional business analyst. Lately, her writings have been more about indoor things, but she still dreams about evening wanderings around Tokyo alleys, Singapore hawker centres, and Parisian cemeteries. Recent publications include Truffle Magazine, Second Chance Lit, and Flash Frog. She resides in the foothills of Alberta, Canada and tweets (@jenwithwords).

Timimoun

Linda McMullen


“…like a retreat,” you insist, gesticulating, as we land at a naked airport kissing the Saharan rim.  

I conclude that you’d meant for us to go to Tunisia. To deconstruct my failings. Reconstruct five years.

Then/or failing that, to take refuge in touring Star Wars locations.  

You’ve taken us a little to the left. Not for the first time.

The Algerian villa owners offer sweet mint tea. They ask no questions.

We drive wordlessly into the dunes. We tiptoe amid ancient cities smothered in ochre dust. Perfection – once.  

You offer me a sand rose.  

It crumbles in my hand.


Linda McMullen is a wife, mother, diplomat, and homesick Wisconsinite. Her short stories and the occasional poem have appeared in over ninety literary magazines. She received Pushcart and Best of the Net nominations in 2020. She may be found on Twitter (@LindaCMcMullen).