Object Writing Word of the Day - [cake]

The first bite seemed to take moments that felt like minutes to develop on the tongue. Sweet, followed by strawberry with a hint of raspberry on the nose. It’s tartness coming to me almost instantly after the strawberry hit me. The icing was melting almost immediately upon my first chew. It was Sven’s birthday and I hadn’t seen him in years since our last get together, a funeral down in Key West. I could still taste the briny air and feel the wind on my hot, salty skin. Shrimp was cooking on the grill. Not too long I said, I hate it when it gets chewy. A little extra lemon please. She placed the chilled glass on the sail boat coaster next to me, condensation sweating off the glass in cool drops on my arm as she passed it across my body.

​The ring of the bell tower over my shoulder startled me out of my fog. The mist parting in front of me. The breeze here was not crisp and cool like it was that night on the keys. It was stifling. It felt like I was inside the heart of a beating furnace. I yawn as the day gets to me. Fishing is not for the light hearted weak soul, especially if you don’t have your sea legs. Luckily my steadiness from which I draw my breaths help the assimilation to the sea manifest itself whenever I stand on the deck of a boat. I itch from the bite on my ankle. Slight sting. Intense itch. I can’t scratch it through my shoe and it’s driving me insane. My eyes burn with concentration as I try to reach the swollen raised bump under my sock. Every time I itch, it makes it worse.