Seaside Gothic

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The Swim

The Swim by Nuala McEnvoy

It was the scalding parched summer of the ladybirds. Sweat made the child’s fringe cling to her forehead as she concentrated on the clunky metal sewing scissors in her small hand. She carefully cut her one-piece bathing suit across right the middle. She frowned as she saw how jagged the result was, but she had made herself a bikini, something she had always coveted.

‘Nobody will find out,’ she said.

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