SHELL
On the beach, I stumble upon a sea shell. Expecting to hear the ocean I raise the shell to my ear. I do not hear the ocean. Instead I hear the sound of a couple having aggressive intercourse. I continue listening until they finish. The session seems to end suddenly and then there is quiet. I take the sea shell home. I listen sporadically throughout the day. There's no longer sound until about midnight. That's when I hear the couple arguing. One says "You understand what this means, don't you?" I listen further but the other party doesn't speak. I hear a door slam and then weeping. I continue to listen. There's nothing else. I currently have the shell but am contemplating returning it to the beach. I have not heard further sounds from it. I will write to you again if there are further developments in the relationship.
RICKEY RIVERS JR was born and raised in Alabama. He is a writer and cancer survivor. His stories and poems have appeared in various publications and are forthcoming in Picaroon Poetry, Dodging the Rain, Pink Plastic House, Neon Mariposa (among other publications).Twitter.com/storiesyoumight / https://storiesyoumightlike.wordpress.com/