Chris Castle
He’s still waving,” Danny said. Poppy took his hand and clambered up the rocks. She stood next to him and followed his gaze. She could barely make out the shadow of a man behind the sun, his arm flailing above him. It looked like he’d been drawn against the sky with a pencil, she thought.

“I don’t think we should go over there,” she said. There was something about the way that he moved his arms which she didn’t like; jagged and hectic, like scratching at a car window and still shaking a fist as the other car sped off.

“If we don’t eat soon Pop...” his voice fell away as he looked back to her. It was the way he won arguments, decisions. Not with his words but with his eyes. He’d gotten that from Dad. She nodded and he smiled. They began to walk towards the shadow.

Somehow she thought if she didn’t agree out loud that would make it okay. She walked a little behind Danny and watched the arm stop waving. It turned into an overhead clap, like audiences do at rock concerts. Somehow, that made her feel worse.