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Weekly Contest #164
In his dreams, he had forgotten the scent of the Caspian Sea. Was it salty, or not? Graham second-guessed his answer—but today, that didn’t matter. Gripping the cold silver rail that divided the Boulevard from the water, he breathed in, not bothering to catalog the sensation. The sea was blue and green and oily rainbow-black. If he wanted, he could climb down and touch it. Finally. His hand twitched toward the cell phone in his pocket. But then the wind swirled hair over his eyes and he swiped it back, turning, and looked down the Boulevard ...
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