Melvyn swore as he dropped his favourite mug, and hot coffee spilt all over his new slippers. His wife had screamed out their daughter’s name from the hallway. He rushed to her side and found her standing at Sally’s bedroom door; a look of horror on her face. She once again called out, but this time it was more in grief, and tears fell from her eyes.
‘My little Sally. Mel, what is going on? Where is she?’
Melvyn leaned into the room and a tremor ran through him as he saw all of Sally’s furniture and Sally herself had vanished. In their place the room was full of sand; some of it wet with the smell of brine. A little sand castle was formed in the middle of the room with a tiny shovel and bucket. Two deck chairs stood nearby accompanied by some lemonade bottles.
Melvyn picked up Sally's birthday book and on the cover, the little girl on the beach turned around and waved. He went to speak but couldn’t. The girl was Sally.