Elián;
Warm sand.
Warm… smooth… pretty sand.
That was the first thought in my mind when I opened my eyes this morning, and it's still the same thought floating about in my head, looking for where to take root.
All I can think about is sand...
Beach sand, to be precise. Beach sand and a very intrusive question.
"Have you ever wondered how warm sand tastes?" I ask inwardly as I blink up at the ceiling, and I'm met with silence.
"Warm sand…" I whisper out loud, as my curiosity begins to warp into an annoyed frown.
"Why do I want to eat warm sand?" I demand, asking no one in particular, and finally, Elien speaks.
"Because you've lost your mind." His unimpressed voice snaps. And I roll my eyes.
"It's not that strange," I mumble defensively.
"It's…comforting. It looks soft."
"Sand is not soft, Elian."
"It feels soft."
"It is literally tiny rocks!"
"I still want it," I reply with a huff as I cross my arms over my chest in annoyance, and Elien groans dramatically.
