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The Summer Girl by Elle Kennedy5/13/2023 ![]() ![]() Have you ever tried walking silently in beach grass? You might as well attach a bell around your neck. But if I try to sneak behind them, they’ll hear me. The couple is facing the dark ocean, which means if I attempt to take the beach route back to the party, they’ll see me. My mind has been Mission: Impossible–ing escape routes since The Dumping commenced. But a clean getaway is difficult because they chose to break up in the worst possible location-right where the beach grass thins and the dunes flatten into a stretch of packed sand. No more than ten feet away from them, I’m sitting against a driftwood log, concealed by shadows. ![]() She pauses for a long beat, during which I consider whether I can make a run for it without the couple noticing. The girl’s voice is flat, lined with dry humor. “Is this some weird sort of foreplay? I don’t get it, but, sure, I’m down.” That honor is bestowed upon the guy with the deep, playful voice, who hasn’t caught up to the fact that his dumper is dead serious. Or rather, secondhand embarrassment, because I’m not even the one getting dumped. It’s the only way to avoid this level of embarrassment. We need to go back to the prohibition days, except we outlaw social events instead of alcohol. See, this is why parties should be banned. ![]() “I don’t think we should hook up anymore.” ![]()
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