Sea Glass

KJ Hannah Greenberg

Tabina smiled at the smooth-edged drift glass in her hand. During her recent harvest, she had found not only green and brown shards, but also a rare, cobalt chip. She wondered if it had originated as a container for Milk of Magnesia, Bromo-Seltzer, Vicks VapoRub, or something more sinister.

Unlike the craft glass offered on Etsy and Amazon, and unlike the beach glass that her Detroit cousin, Majidah, collected on Lake St. Clair’s shore, Tabina’s salvages were frosted as they’d been weathered by salt water. Yet, beyond the jewelry-making kids at school and her art teacher, no one cared about her treasures.

Tabina sighed. She regularly skipped hours’ of social media, and of meetups at the popular restaurant, Medan el-Tahrir, to afford the multiple buses needed to get to Terminal Island. On route, she was always targeted by stares and taunts; staying in Little Arabia would have been safer.

Nonetheless, like the battered glass, her growth was being shaped by a drift process. It was impossible for Tabina not to engage in beachcombing.

KJ Hannah Greenberg, Never tiring of applying whimsy to pastures where gelatinous wildebeests roam, or of applying solemnity to the soil where fey hedgehogs play, Hannah’s been nominated four times for the Pushcart Prize in Literature, and once for The Best of the Net. Hannah's seventh and newest short fiction collection is Walnut Street (Bards & Sages Publishing. June, 2019).

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