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Rated: E · Fiction · Contest Entry · #2109280
A woman tries to forget but finds that everything is a reminder of those she's lost
It was the last day of the holiday and Lucy was feeling restless. She had explored all of the nearby towns along the coast, as well as the one she was staying in. Every rock pool along the beach was well-known to her. Anyway, the glorious weather meant that the beach would be crowded with other holiday makers, including children. She really wanted to steer clear of places with children.

So why had she come to a well-known seaside resort in the middle of summer? she asked herself. Because I'm a masochist, came the answer.

She gave herself a shake. This was not helping her decide what to do for her last day. Looking out of the hotel window, she noticed a group of stalls being set up in the market square. The market! She needed to pick up some souvenirs, anyway.

Slipping on her jacket, but leaving the button open, she hurried out of her room, out of the hotel and towards the market. It was still fairly quiet and it was actually pleasant to wander through the stalls, looking at the local produce and crafts on sale. There was a cheese stall that Jack would have loved... She bit her lip to stop herself from crying and moved quickly on.

The next stall was loaded down with bric-a-brac. Horse brasses, candlesticks, teacups and saucers, tarnished cutlery. And then she saw it. A ship in a bottle. Its hull was painted a bright blue, Tommy's favourite colour, and its sails billowed in an imaginary wind. Her mind's eye placed her dead husband, Jack, at the tiller, and her dead son, Tommy, as the look-out in the crow's nest. And she felt a sense of peace she had not known since the accident.
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