Strings - Capstone Amal Al Shamsi (1)

Neck of the Hourglass
“Is it hereditary?”
They were sitting together on the sand in Coney Island. She was slowly pushing her feet
into the sand, moving outwards. Her skin was cool against his ankle.
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
Hamza smiled a little. “Is that what you were thinking about?”
The clicking sound of metal crept in from behind before a wave of shouts drowned it out.
If he focused, maybe he’d hear the sound of waves and the simmering of his skin in the sun,
maybe hers as well.
“Yeah,” she admitted. She was smiling, then smiling some more as he leaned back on his
arms as if to inspect his navel.
“I don’t think so, no. Unfortunately.”
“Aw,” she told him.
“Why–– are you particularly invested in my genes?” Hamza said, because it seemed like
a romantic thing to say at the time.
“Definitely,” Elena told him.
She seemed like she would stay a part of him, but he only remembered her sometimes,
when he heard waves hit the coast.
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