Donna at the Ocean Meg Favreau Donna had lost something; she knew that for sure. But she couldn’t remember what the thing was. Her mind kept slipping around it like it was an algae-covered rock. Donna just knew that it was a loss, and it was massive. Huh. Was that right? Was the loss massive, or was the thing itself massive? Donna tried to get her slipping brain around that. Could she have lost a whale? Was that a thing people could do? Donna’s eyes filled with tears at the thought of that. The ocean was too big. Searching it would take… at least three months, probably. But also more, now that Donna thought about it. The ocean was gigantic. The ocean was… The ocean. She was looking at the ocean. That was something. Something real, something tangible. Donna decided to assess the situation. Maybe that would tell her what she lost. She was sitting on some rocks, which was not very comfortable, honestly. Painful on the… plelvis? Pelvis. Butt? The butt itself does not have bones, right? Donna shifted on the rocks a bit and giggled, thinking about what a butt bone might look like. Like bone bowls, two of them, tucked under the skin. And butt bones would mean kids would be falling all the time, breaking their butts on the playground. Donna giggled again. 46
Meg Favreau
fiction