Sunny Beach was sweltering, so hot that even the beach chairs were contemplating unionizing. But suddenly, the scene was interrupted—not by a wave, not by a seagull, but by her: the girl in the black bikini and black high heels so high that even the beach crabs respectfully stepped aside.
She strutted through the sand as if it were a red carpet rolled out just for her. With every step, she sank so deep that you could have thought she was digging for Atlantis. But she smiled—that sweetest, most radiant smile, so powerful that even a sunburn paused to politely ask if it was bothering her.
A few tourists rubbed their eyes. One man dropped his ice cream in shock, whereupon a seagull swooped down and snatched it, applauding as it did so. A lifeguard wondered if he should intervene, since high heels in the sand probably violate at least three laws of nature. violated the rules.
But the girl wasn’t deterred. She strode on as if she were about to open a fashion show for beachgoers, sea creatures, and bewildered beach umbrellas. Small craters formed behind her footsteps, which archaeologists would later mistakenly interpret as “the mysterious cult site of a very stylish civilization.”
And when she finally reached the water, she stopped, turned around, smiled even more sweetly—and the ocean made a small ripple, only to grin politely back.
