Ouvert

Margaret and Gaius have taken the Yelo water bus to Pointe des Minimes. They are sitting on the pebbles near the water, facing the sea.

La Rochelle is so lovely, says Margaret. Don't you love it here, Gaius?

I don't care for these pebbles, says Gaius, shifting uncomfortably. I much prefer sand.

But they are such interesting limestones, says Margaret. Look at this one. And this!

Margaret piles her stones one on top of the other. She builds a wee house.

Gaius watches two French girls paddling. They look uncomfortable too.

C'est La Rochelle, says one, with a grimace. The other one laughs.

Gaius idly picks up a pebble. He looks at it. It is white and smooth, shaped like a little fat cloud. It has a hole in the middle. He turns it over.

Look Margaret, says Gaius. A face!

Margaret looks at the pebble. It has two holes for eyes, and a tiny fossilised shell for a mouth. The mouth seems to be smiling.

How sweet, says Margaret. But if that is its face, what is that hole?

That is its mouth, says Gaius.

No, this is its mouth, says Margaret, pointing to the fossilised shell. See, it's even got teeth.

Nonsense, says Gaius, the hole is the mouth. A mouth is a hole, after all.

Not if it's shut, says Margaret. And when it's open, a mouth doesn't go through to the back.

Do you like it or not? snaps Gaius.

Of course I like it, says Margaret. It has two mouths. One open, one shut. That gives it an air of ambiguity. I shall keep it, and call it Ouvert.

Ouvert, says Gaius.

Ouvert blinks one of his eyes.