The clouds formed a perfect line over the horizon, far enough away for Rosemary to believe that bad weather had no chance to ruin her perfect beach day. The sand was the perfect shade of golden brown and contrasted beautifully with the dark blue water. Colorful umbrellas dotted the entire beach from the shoreline to the fences that kept the regular beachgoers off of the unusable side of the beach. Despite the tall white fences that kept people out, Rosemary could still see through the smallest cracks in the synthetic white wood. 

A woman sitting on a rug nearby appeared to be selling sunglasses, but they were too expensive for Rosemary to be interested in, even if she could always use a new pair of sunglasses. There was an ever persistent rustling noise from the fence, and she was immensely curious whether the sound came from animals picking at the mountains of garbage or if the criminals she was watching on the news had found their way back into the garbage pit to scavenge for more old gems. Renovated and reused products were back in style again, but she knew the government would snuff out the craze early on. She wondered if the sunglasses lady knew sunglasses were out of style, even on the beach.

 Her carefully placed umbrella shifted in the warm breeze, and she squinted up at the sun, even if she didn’t need to. The sun was too dark to have to squint these days. Even in the dead heat of summer, even on the beach, even though the weather forecast predicted a very sunny day. She suddenly felt very tired, and wondered if some cold ice cream would make her feel happier.  Her brothers, Mickey and BJ were still on the walk she sent them on after they argued about how well they’ve tanned for the upteenth time that day. 

She abruptly stood up, patted the dust off her lap, and pulled out a few dollars she had stuffed into her tiny cat themed pocketbook. She took a step out of the shade and immediately sank into the heated sand. The sand itself was a marvel of construction. A massive hotbed of electrical work lay right underneath the sand, allowing the sand to maintain its soothing, hot feel. This was one of the few beaches with heated sand left, and she knew that wouldn’t last much longer either now that sand was so hard to come by. She dug her feet in deep, felt the heat radiate up her legs, and then set off down the beach. The ice cream man had set off with his stainless steel cart not too long ago, and she swiftly darted around the umbrellas and lounging beachgoers to search for him. He was right by the fence, staring right up at it. His shocked expression appeared to be layered on with a thick coat of paint, and she was hesitant to bring him out of his stupor. His hand twitched around the spotless steel cart handle, and he appeared to jolt with a full body shudder. Then his face slowly flickered into a smile. 

“Ice cream here! Get your ice cream here!” He pivoted away from the ever present fence and kept on going, merry as ever.

 Rosemary raised her hand and waved to get his attention, and he did a little jog over to her, bouncing his cart on the mounds of sand between the umbrellas and chairs. He gestured to his cart and asked, “what flavor were you looking for? I have peanut butter, red bean, and cinnamon.” 

Peanut butter was her favorite. “I’ll have the cinnamon, please.” Rosemary told him, wringing her hands. She handed him a few dollars that he shoved hastily into his vest’s pocket. He then popped open the flawless stainless steel lid of his cart, showing Rosemary the inside of the cart, which was completely covered in rust and had a faint smell of ammonia. He quickly popped out the ice cream, which was packaged in a cinnamon roll wrapper, and slammed the lid shut. 

“Nice doing business with you,” was all Rosemary got before he hastily pulled his cart away and sped off away from the fence. 

She watched him run off, dug her feet back into the heated sand, and stared down at the cinnamon ice cream. It had a picture of a cinnamon roll on the front, and was pleasantly cool in her hands. She took off toward her umbrella and sunk back into her chair, then she ripped open the wrapper. There was another wrapper inside, which she expected, and she ripped the second one open too. Then she had to go through the hard plastic shell inside to get to the ball of ice cream. The ice cream came with a folded up disposable spoon and a latex glove. Years back it was determined that all ice creams were required to come with a glove ever since the government cracked down on plastic bowls, saying something about how they were harmful to the environment. 

Rosemary put on the glove, unfurled the spoon, and dug into the ice cream. It took her one bite to realize that she didn’t like cinnamon, and promptly threw the ice cream and all that came with it over the fence wall, into the trash heaps. She felt a little pity for herself, feeling let down by the ice cream, and unsatisfied with how she still felt as though she needed refreshment.

She stared into the ocean and wondered what it would be like to swim in it. Would the swirling waves be dangerous? She had no way of finding out, since swimming in the water was ludicrous nowadays. Nobody even brings a bathing suit to the beach. She pondered her options: she could sit back down in her beachy fold up chair and pretend to sleep until her brothers came back, or she could go out and explore on her own. She popped her buried feet out of the warm sand once more and skimmed up and down the shoreline again. There were still many umbrellas dotting the beach, and many people crowded against the barrier preventing people from touching the unclean ocean water. The woman selling sunglasses was sitting cross-legged on her little rug, sunglasses spread out in front of her. They had a bulky build, and were made with an aqua blue plastic. It seemed as though she wasn’t actively advertising them, and the woman looked disinterested in addressing the crowd of people on the beach.  

Rosemary eyed her beach tote, sitting under the umbrella. She knew her pair of sunglasses was relatively new, and she had no use for a new pair. Despite this, she ambled over to the woman’s rug.

The woman looked up to her with a bored expression as Rosemary quickly assessed her sunglasses. She wondered why the woman was doing this, if she didn’t look interested in actually selling her products. “What are these for?” Rosemary asked, hoping to get the woman to show at least some interest in her. 

The woman looked up at her with a dull expression, as if she had no expectation of selling her sunglasses. She opened her mouth like she was going to say something, abruptly clicked her mouth closed again, and blinked hard. She then started on with her statement, “t-these sunglasses are made with recycled ocean plastic and each sale goes to cleaning the beach.” She stuttered like she hadn’t used her voice in a long time. She gestured towards her sunglasses and cleared her throat. “We will clean out an acre of plastic waste from the ocean if you buy one pair.” 

Rosemary noted that she looked almost nervous. Like she wasn’t expecting anyone to talk to her, to show any interest in her sunglasses. They were out of style after all, and ocean cleanup projects were all largely abandoned. 

“I’ll take one pair, please,” she said, not knowing why she was buying them. She could faintly see through the cracks of the fence, and that faint thumping noise from behind the fence made her antsy. She handed over the money, took the sunglasses, and put them on her face. They were bulky on her face, and slid down the shallow bridge of her nose, but she could live with that. She thanked the woman again, and the woman thanked her right back. It made Rosemary feel a lot better about herself to make that one woman look happier. 

She strode back off with a gait in her step towards the chair, where she was disappointed to see her brothers still had not returned from their walk. Knowing them, Mickey was probably making friends on the beach while BJ was always trailing one step behind him. She decided it was in her best interest to go find them to leave before the curfew. 

She dug her chair out of the sand, shook it clean, and folded it up next to the umbrella. She grabbed her bag, took out her old pair of sunglasses, and chucked them over the fence. She turned back to walk away from the eerie thumping noise, and glanced at the woman. She was staring right back at her with a look of disgust on her face, and that slowly turned right back into apathy.