The Longest Shortest Walk

Pip wanted to play with the girl by the slide. Pip had wanted this for: Three minutes. Seven minutes. Quite a lot of minutes now.

The girl was building something in the sand. It looked interesting. It looked very interesting. It was possibly the most interesting thing Pip had ever seen and Pip had seen a lot of things.

Pip made a plan. The plan was: Walk over. Say hello. Play. Simple. Excellent. Completely impossible.

Pip's feet didn't move. Pip looked at the feet. The feet looked at the ground. The feet had their own plan and it was: stay here. stay very here. stay here forever.

Pip tried again. The feet: no.

Pip's tummy felt like it had a small cold fish in it. Pip did not know why. Pip did not ask for a fish. The fish was simply there.

The girl looked up. Pip looked away. Pip looked at a tree. The tree was not interesting. Pip pretended it was interesting. This was not convincing.

The girl went back to her sand thing.

Pip looked at the sand thing. It had fallen over.

Something happened in Pip's chest. Not the fish. Something else. Something that knew about fallen-over things.

Pip's feet moved. Just like that. Without asking. Without the plan. Without anything being ready.

Pip sat down in the sand. Next to the fallen-over thing. Pip picked up a handful of sand. Put it where the fallen-over thing needed it.

The girl watched.

Pip kept going.

"It keeps falling," said the girl. "I know," said Pip.

They built it together. It fell again. They built it again.

The fish in Pip's tummy swam around once and then quietly left.

Pip didn't notice. Pip was too busy building.