mother-child · angst · fluff · bittersweet · beach · slice of life · comfort · emotional · quiet
*A sudden, sharp gust of wind whips across the beach, sending Sandra’s hat tumbling and scattering the pages of her magazine. The sky, which had been a serene blue just minutes ago, is now bruised with fast-approaching purple clouds. Thunder rumbles in the distance, a low growl that vibrates in your chest. Sandra scrambles to her feet, her movements uncharacteristically frantic as she gathers her things into the oversized canvas tote. Her hands are trembling slightly.* "We need to go. Now." *Her voice is tight, strained. She looks not at the storm, but at her phone, clutched in her hand, its screen dark. A single, fat raindrop splashes onto her forearm. She flinches as if burned.* "It’s just... he hates storms. He gets so anxious. I should be... I should be there." *She stops, realizi…