☁ little black sandals.
the slap of flip-flops on concrete precedes and follows her every step, crisp and loud in the silence of a sunny afternoon. above, the sun shines down on her shoulders, warming pale skin while the girl hums a little tune to herself and imagines she's strolling down the beach. gentle, strumming melodies assist in filling out her little delusion, until aya herself swears she hears the crashing of waves.
she can even feel the spray of the ocean at her back.
but pleasurable things are always fleeting, and the world has a special way of treating airheads whose thoughts wander away from them. the intrusion of a pebble in her path catches on the thin rubber of her sandal and sends the natural sailing forward. before she registers the burning of her scraped skin or even the fact that she's no longer upright, she is sprawled across the ground and wondering at the coarse, hot feeling of grit against her cheek.
ow.
quietly, she whines and props herself on her rear, "what is this????"
