The boy’s bronze arm stretched, and his slender fingers touched a rock carefully not to stir the life underneath.
“There used to be a lot more of these guys.”
He picked up a crab, beads of sweat on his neck glistening under the scorching sun.
“They lost their homes, I guess.”
His brown eyes watched the crab crawl up his palm.
The waves surged, crashed through the rain forest and empty houses, and ebbed.
“I’ll be sad if I have to say good-bye to him.”
PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Eames