Mike stood and watched them play from the boardwalk, the hot, rough wooden slats making his wound ache. He peered at them, admiring them despite the sun in his eyes.
Mike darted up the hot sand and scooped his baby daughter into his arms. He dashed into the soapy tide just far enough to wet his feet and soak her small body. His deep laughter drowned out her squeals.
Mike stood aching on the boardwalk and watched the scene before him, the young father dipping his laughing baby into the sea, and he wished he could wash away the years.
100 words for this week’s Friday Fictioneer’s challege. Why don’t you go ahead and give it a try?