The Inheritors
“He rolled over on his back in the warm sand. He put up an arm to shield his eyes from the sun, already beginning its plunge into the Pacific. “What is it, Golden Girl?”
She crawled across the sand to him and placed an arm on either side of his chest and looked down at him, blocking the sun.
He dropped his arm to her thigh. Her flesh was as warm as the sand under him. He waited quietly.
“You were far away,” she said.
“Not really,” he answered.
“What were you thinking?”
Strange how alike they were. All of them. After a while they wanted to crawl inside your head. “Nothing,” he said. “Maybe just that I wish there were a thousand days like this. No telephones, no people, no problems.”
“You wouldn’t be happy,” she said.
He thought for a moment. “I guess not.”
“Are you up to a party tonight?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
“I know it’s not what I promised,” she said. “But it’s Sunday night and tomorrow you’re going back East anyway and I have to start looking for work sometime.”
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