Real Mermaids Don't Wear Toe Rings - Plot & Excerpts
I jammed the key into the lock as my thoughts raced with memories of doing the same thing with Mom every summer when we’d go for our middle-of-the-lake rides in the rowboat. But this wasn’t one of those lazy July afternoons with nothing to worry about but reapplying sun block and wondering what Dad was burning on the barbecue. If that sound was what I thought it was though, maybe we’d see those days again. I ran inside and pressed the buttons for the boat lift and the overhead door. Pinkish-orange light from the setting sun flooded through the boathouse as the garage door opened. The rowboat traveled down from the rafters along rattling chains and settled into the water. I scrambled in, unhooked the pulleys to release it from the lift and grabbed the oars. The boat shot out of the shed with three massive strokes of the oars. I felt like some superhuman she-force, driven by the massive dose of adrenaline gushing through my veins. In that moment, I was sure I could lift a car off a family of four or save a kitten from a burning building.
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