Holding the shells in my hand I feel sad. They are beautiful, but their emptiness, makes me sad. I think about the inhabitant, now gone. Maybe some poor hermit crab will find shelter. But it will only be transient.
I am that hermit crab. I come to the beach because I have no home. I spend my days wandering the streets looking for food, water, a place to sleep. The beach is one of the few places where I can be happy. I can forget about my dismal life. But now the beach has made me sad. Where can I go.______________________________________
Created for Friday Fiction based on the picture Shells