Impossible Future

There’s sand between my toes. Gritty, damp. More sand drifts over the wood floor of our bedroom. I’m up every morning with the sun, for a swim with sea turtles before a mug of coffee. I wear colourful robes like Mrs. Roper; my skin is wrinkled and leathery from the sun. My hair is steel grey and wiry, and my earrings are huge.