Eventually a gull betrayed me, Pierre followed its shriek with his gaze and discovered me "hiding" near the cave entrance. We strolled back together along the shore to the villa, Pierre went on and on about Olive asking so many questions about my cousin. Olive Rogne, the Sun Queen. Till this summer she used to be the genuine leader of our gang, but now she grew above us like she was bored with us. Nonetheless we had to bear with her whimsy like this hide-and-seek on a sleepy sundrenched afternoon. All the same, I had the feeling she was anxious for a coup dethroning her and giving her an excuse to abandon our infantile circle. Nothing was unblurred with Olive Rogne. Rogne wasn't her original surname, it was a moniker we gave her changing the "u" in "rogue" to an "n" to make it sound more French. OK, young Monique is dyslexic and wrote "rogue" with an "n" for the first time. Now, her dad also calls her "Olive Rogne."

So, we were rambling along the shore with Pierre halting and crouching to pick up a shell for Monique from time to time. He was driving me insane with all the gabble about Ms Rogne. Anyways, he spends a bizarre amount of time in her company especially while sunbathing, her new favourite amusement. They allegedly talk about literature all this time facing the sea and basking under the Mediterranean sun. Tell it to the merchant marines . . . . I know, even Monique knows, it's "to the marines," but I have a bit of Olive in me, so I went rogue with this idiom.

The photo is from the app "Fiction Prompter."