Charles Jensen | Writer

The writing has never been so clearly on the wall. So to speak. With all the rights they’ve taken from us, this one was just an eventuality. Despite our flaws, we hit the beach early on, and the sun held us in its mouth haphazardly, like a dog. It seared our flesh. The waves crashed in like a series of drunken uncles nobody wanted to see again and threw their foam around like slurred profanity. It was embarrassing for everyone. I followed you through the beachside while the sun berated us, interrogating us with its naked bulb. Although I was scarred, I felt invincible. Nothing could ruin me now. I could hear the waves lapping at the shore in desperation. That’s when I knew I had won.