Tempest

They parked overlooking the surging ocean. The car rocked in the wind. Ren and Niko, still furious at being dragged from their screens and fuggy rooms, couldn’t sit with their parents a moment longer.

“We’re going for a walk,” Ren huffed. Doors slammed. Alan and Sara gave each other a look. Leaning forward, hair whipping, jackets filling like parachutes, the teenagers made for the beach.

On the sand they made wings of their arms and ran, screaming, into the teeth of the tempest. Later, behind the car’s steamed-up windows, they ate hot chips, their rancour all but blown away.

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