The Boulder and Fungus at the Old Oceanside

Kaitlyn Petroski

He was softer than the pesky moss that clings to a rock. She was tougher than the stone that struck me with all her talk. I hate him her with all that engulfs me.

How lonely could a rock have been to love mere bacteria? How desperate could a plant have been to escape his lost hysteria? Bound together by the forces of nature, we’ve held onto each other, we thought always, forever. Until the tide crashed in taller, and salty resentment washed over us with displeasure.

They’ve stained his green colors, once vibrant and lime, while pushing me into the bouldersthere’s just no way.

But I’ve heard they can turn to diamonds over time, and if that was the case… we could be okay……. After years of our struggle, he she has become soaked in layers of unbearable exhaustion. restlessness. I suppose when a big rock beats at wet moss, all it can do is be squashed into mush.

Beneath the layers of bitterness eroded by time, somehow, a speckle of love still lies. But the tides have been rising, increasingly high.

Will we make it? Perhaps, in a lie. we’ll be fine.