Bea lived where she and Clarry had built years ago. Back then there weren’t many folk around. Those that were she knew. Now, though the place was crowded, she was usually on her own. Perhaps if she’d had children it would have been different. Girls these days took so much for granted.
She went early to the beach, adjusted her shoulder strap, put her headphones on and began searching. Sometimes she found coins or a watch. Usually there were only bottle tops and rubbish beneath her buzzing detector.
Armand was new in the area—living with his daughter who considered him a danger to himself. At least she was near the beach.
Armand and Bea approached the point from different sides, so intent on the patches of sand beneath their detector’s discs they didn’t notice each other until their machines went haywire and their discs clanged together.
Such a commotion for a ball of fencing wire. Ah but it was a lovely morning and where else would a person rather be.
Deciding to meet at the same time next week they laughed at their silliness. Because, they agreed, they never found anything really worthwhile.
small stories about love 