Ben was babysitting Euthymia's foster child. "She's unusual," he'd been warned. "Don't provoke her." He'd taken her to a #spit of sand curling into the bay, where they were blowing soap bubbles that landed on the sand, then popped.

"They don't last," the kid mourned.

"Yeah, in the air they evaporate."

The girl held out a hand. The bubbles were gone: now moon jellies dotted the sand. A wave raced over the spit, carrying away the jellyfish.

"Now they'll live," she said.

#wss366 #microfiction