When it’s time for me to walk away from something, I walk away from it. My mind, my body, my conscience tell me that enough is enough. Jerry West
She walked out onto the morning sands and found it lying there, on a piece of coral, jutting up out of the surf and sparkling like a diamond. Running to the resting place where it lay, free-for-the-asking and beckoning her to pick it up, she hesitated.
“What if it belongs to someone?” she thought.
It might not have simply drifted up from the depths of the Caribbean. Surely it didn’t. Couldn’t have. It was too beautiful for that.
She looked around, suspicious that the treasure might have strings attached. It could have been left there for her by some unscrupulous miscreant that was lurking nearby and sought to waylay her on the lonely beach.
“No one!” she said, to nobody.
She bent down. Was it gold? Silver? It was hard to tell when the water kept crashing over it and distorting her view. Again, she asked herself, “Where did it come from? Who left it here? Do I dare take it and keep it?”
She reached beneath the swell of Caribbean blue to grab for it once more before it slipped away.
“Ugh!” she grunted. The wave that’d brushed up over her feet and legs had moved it six inches further from the shore. She considered if chasing after it was a good idea. She didn’t swim. Couldn’t swim. Had never been able to and feared drowning should she get too far out in the water.
“It’s only a few inches,” She told herself.
“Grab it, you fool!” her inner devils screamed. “So what if your pants get wet, idiot. This is a once-in-a-lifetime find. Go get it!”
She acted to claim it. If she waited, she knew another wave was sure to come and bury the item in the sand and water now cresting near her shin. It was almost in her grip when that wave came, and the inevitable happened. Quickly, it slipped away, but remained still visible two feet from where she stood.
She knew deep often called to deep in her life (always had), and with the same result. Trouble! She couldn’t help herself, though. She did what she knew to do and moved again to claim her prize.
As others were pushing remnants of sleep away from them and preparing to meet the day, Sarah slipped into the surf, limp, drowned; a dime store necklace with a green tinged chain tangled around the tendrils of her sea-swept hair.