Amaryllis' New Swimsuit

Normally, I avoid most outdoor activities during the summer unless the a/c goes out. Today was going to be inventory, sales, and calls to authors nearing or past their deadlines. That was until the doorbell rang. I checked the peep hole, no one was there. Strange, but I opened the door to make sure there was nobody just out of sight. Only a small white parcel.

Normally, the manuscripts are delivered to the box for Kiss of Words Publishing Firm, but a number of my authors knew my address, so I just assumed it may be one of them. So, I picked it up and closed my door. Definitely too hot to leave it open. I walked to the kitchen and opened the package as I ate my breakfast.

I had to put a pomegranate aril down when I saw black fabric instead of white paper. I sighed before  pulling the cloth out and unfolding it. The polyester felt smooth and let me know it was swimwear. It was a one piece, a mono-kini to be precise. I quickly found the tag and verified it was a polyester-lycra blend.

I saw no size and there was no note that I could find. I was curious. I used a few tailors and seamstresses in the Burrowgatory, so they all had my measurements. Any bun could have approached them for a surprise like this.

Putting it on was a little complex, but it was a perfect fit. Long sleeves with thumb holes, one side and the back cut out. The bottom portion was shorts. This was comfortable. So whomever sent this knew me well enough. The sleeves faded from black to purple and into this gorgeous shade of crimson.

Seeing it on myself finalized the decision to hit the beach. I put on a simple cover-up and sandals before packing a small bag with a towel and a couple books before grabbing an umbrella and heading out. The walk was a bit long, but was worth it.

I put my umbrella in the sand and opened it before laying my towel under it. I removed my cover-up, showing my swimsuit off. My pale skin could almost feel the light from the crystals above the beach.

I put the cover-up in my bag and sat it next to the umbrella before standing and stretching. It was a beautiful day. Other beach goers had swimwear unique to their preferences too. Whether they went looking for them or not was completely a mystery to me, but they all looked gorgeous.

After a few moments, I laid on my towel. I pulled out one of my books. It was well-read, the spine no longer cracking as it bends. It was by one of the authors I had intended to call earlier, but that would wait. The person who sent me the swimsuit deserve to see me enjoying it in my own manner. This was my own show, under the crimson umbrella, and that’s what mattered.