Page 14 of Knocked Up By the Grump

Emily

Isit on my bed, my laptop resting on my lap, fingers dancing across the keyboard as I finish up my paper for the graduate class.

The topic:sea turtles and the challenges they face in our modern world.

I've poured my heart and soul into this research, and it's finally coming together.

With a firm conclusion, I type the last sentence of my paper, “It is crucial to acknowledge that large marinas like Sovereign Harbor, while symbols of luxury and wealth, often have a detrimental impact on the delicate balance of sea life, particularly sea turtles.”

As I hit the save button, I can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. These words are not just academic; they reflect my passion for protecting our oceans and the creatures that inhabit them.

I sit there with my laptop, but my thoughts drift away from my paper to a vivid memory of the first time Lily and I attempted to protest Sovereign Harbor.

We had thought our protest would be a harmless yet impactful statement. Armed with colorful banners and signs that read, “Protect Our Seas” and “Light Pollution Kills,” we had planned to stage a peaceful protest during one of Ben Hawthorne's lavish yacht parties.

Our idea was to gather on the edge of the marina, near the water's edge, and shine bright lights toward the party. This was our way of illustrating the issue of light pollution, even if it meant casting a temporary shadow on the opulence of the event. Little did we know that our well-intentioned demonstration would cause such chaos.

The bright lights we'd set up ended up blinding some of the partygoers, and, in a fit of panic, one of them accidentally knocked over a display of expensive champagne glasses, shattering them into a glittering mess. Chaos ensued, and security soon escorted us away while Ben yelled about his ruined party.

That night, as we were being banned from his yacht and his parties, I felt like our message had been overshadowed by the chaos we inadvertently caused. But as I sit here working on my graduate paper, I know that my commitment to protecting the environment hasn't wavered, even if our first protest didn't go exactly as planned.

Pushing away from my desk, I decide I need a break. The words on my paper are starting to blur together, and my mind craves a breath of fresh air. I slip on my sneakers, grab my jacket, and make my way to the nearby Miami boardwalk.

As I step onto the boardwalk, I'm greeted by the gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore and the salty scent of the ocean. The early afternoon sun casts a warm, golden glow oneverything it touches. I take in the view of the beautiful sea stretching out into the horizon, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over me.

With each step, I let my thoughts wander away from the confines of academia and into the vastness of the ocean. The rhythmic pounding of the waves against the shore becomes a soothing backdrop to my contemplation.

As I walk, I can't help but smile at the memory of my conversation with the mysterious man about books, the spark of connection we shared. It's a pleasant distraction from the weighty subjects of my studies.

Suddenly, my gaze falls upon a disturbing sight. A scattering of litter carelessly left behind by previous visitors. Plastic wrappers, empty cups, and cigarette butts mar the natural splendor of the coastline.

Jerks.Why can’t people just use a recycling can?

I think bitterly.

As I bend down to pick up a piece of litter and place it into a nearby trash bin, my mind is conscious of the ways I could make a difference in the environment. Since I was young, I’ve always been passionate about advocating for cleaner beaches, organizing community clean-up efforts, and raising awareness about the importance of preserving our oceans and marine life.

Especially the turtles, I add.

I may be a graduate student now, buried in research papers and exams, but I know that one day, I'll have the opportunity to turn my passion into action and work towards a brighter, cleaner future for our planet.

I keep walking along the boardwalk, passing tourists and locals, when I spot Chris sitting at a weathered picnic table nestled under a small palm tree.

I can't help but smirk at the sight of him, engrossed in his laptop, fingers dancing across the keyboard as he works on what I assume to be something from work.

“Chris, always with your nose buried in a screen,” I tease as I approach him, nudging him gently with my elbow.

He startles and turns to look at me, his hair catching the sea breeze as he does. “Oh, hey, Em,” he says with a distracted tone.

“You're missing out on the beautiful view of the ocean, you know,” I continue.

My brother's hazel eyes twinkle with amusement as he removes his glasses and grins at me. “I mean, I wish I could enjoy the view, but I've got an important new code to work on for the company. It's going to revolutionize our user interface.”

I glance out at the serene ocean beyond the boardwalk, the waves rolling in with a soothing rhythm. “Well, I suppose someone has to keep the tech world spinning,” I say, a hint of playful sarcasm in my voice. “Just promise me you'll take a break and appreciate the beauty around you every now and then.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. He adjusts his glasses before saying, “You mean the beautiful views such as… the sight of paper turtles invading a boat?”

Damn it.Not again.

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