Sunday, July 6, 2025
🌞 “Sea You Later, L.A.” – A Summer Story with Sarah E. Miller 🌊
Every Monday through Friday, 9 to 5 sharp, Sarah E. Miller sat behind the sleek marble counter at L.A.’s trendiest architectural firm, Brick & Beyond. She was the first face clients saw—a human welcome mat, but make it fashion.
“Good morning, Brick & Beyond! You’ve reached Sarah—not the builder, but I do know how to lay down a solid foundation... of vibes,” she’d chirp into the phone, twirling her pen like a baton.
But come summer weekends? Oh honey, Sarah traded skyscrapers for sea breeze faster than you could say “out of office.”
Her escape? A boat called The Quackitect, co-owned by her two besties, Kyle and Marissa. (It was originally supposed to be named The Architect, but a typo on the registration made it funnier, so they just rolled with it.)
Every Saturday, Sarah slipped into one of her signature swimsuits—today it’s leopard print with more sass than a cat in sunglasses—and plopped herself right at the bow like she was posing for a sunscreen commercial.
“I'm not saying I'm the captain,” she’d giggle, “but I do point us toward snacks and sun.”
Sarah had a simple boat rule: barefoot always. Shoes were for boardrooms, not boats. She'd stretch out her legs, feeling the sun toast her toes while yelling out inspirational quotes like: “Live. Laugh. Lake.”
One time, as she was paddleboarding near a tiny island, she shouted back to the boat, “Guys! I just invented a new sport. It's called ‘Sit Up Paddleboarding’—you don’t stand, you just vibe.”
Her friends groaned, but she knew they secretly loved her jokes. Or at least tolerated them because she brought the best sandwiches. Turkey pesto with avocado—no crusts, because she was “all about that soft life.”
Every trip was full of salty sea air, laughter, sun-kissed selfies, and her pointing dramatically at clouds and saying, “That one looks like my ex’s excuses.”
And even when a rogue wave splashed her favorite floaty drink cup overboard, she simply declared:
“Looks like my iced coffee is taking a deep dive into career change—venti to sea intern.”
By Monday, she’d be back behind the desk at Brick & Beyond, professional as ever, but with a golden glow and a camera roll full of dockside memories.
As she put it:
“Some people do yoga to unwind. I prefer my downward dog with dolphins in the background.”
And honestly? Same.
Abby and the Adventures of the Duck Bench
Abby loved three things: pizza, fresh air, and not wearing duck boots.
By day, she was the face of Bonnie’s, a quirky little pizzeria known for its pepperoni-stuffed crusts and its equally stuffed duck mascot logo. Every morning at 10:00 AM sharp, Abby would slip into her teal-and-yellow duck costume (complete with beak hood), lace up the enormous yellow duck boots that squeaked with every step, and waddle outside to charm the lunchtime crowd.
“Come on in! The crust is quacking good!” she’d call out with a big smile and cartoonish wing-flaps. Kids loved her. Tourists took selfies with her. One time, someone tried to give her bread crumbs, and she had to awkwardly explain she wasn’t a real duck. That earned her a confused look and a dollar tip.
But when it came to her break time? Oh, that was her time.
She’d march right over to her favorite wooden bench next to the restaurant—still in full costume, mind you—but off came those squeaky duck boots. Abby would stretch her legs, wiggle her toes, and let her feet breathe like they were on a tropical vacation. Customers would occasionally do a double take, wondering if they were witnessing a rare species of duck-human hybrid just casually lounging with her soda and slice.
Most of the staff didn’t question it anymore. “Abby’s on her duck break,” they’d say, nodding solemnly.
Lunch was always the same: a personal pepperoni pizza and a can of Coke. Balanced diet? No. But was it the lunch of a hardworking, duck-suited legend? Absolutely.
One day, a new manager named Todd tried to enforce a “keep the boots on at all times” rule. Abby simply handed him her boots, crossed her legs on the bench like a barefoot queen, and said, “You try wearing these ovens for six hours and still wanting to quack like you mean it.”
Todd backed down.
By the time 5 o’clock rolled around, Abby was back on her feet (boots reluctantly back on), waving at passing cars and occasionally doing a silly spin if someone honked twice. A local TikToker once caught her dancing and dubbed her the “Barefoot Duck Queen of Main Street.” It went viral. Bonnie’s sales skyrocketed. Abby never let it go to her head—though she did ask for a raise... and a bench with back support.
So if you’re ever near Bonnie’s, and you see a duck girl giggling on a bench, barefoot and happy, just know: that’s Abby. She’s not just the mascot.
She’s the soul of the pizza.
Paulina and the Giant Duck of Lake Tilly
By someone who definitely didn't expect this story to involve so much quacking.
It was a sunny morning in the quiet little town of Willowbrook. Paulina, a cheerful girl with raspberry-pink hair and a blue ribbon always tied perfectly in her braid, had one simple plan: go to Lake Tilly, dip her toes in the water, and maybe sketch a duck or two if they were feeling photogenic.
But today, Lake Tilly had… other plans.
As Paulina stepped onto the familiar trail down to the lake, humming a tune from her favorite RPG game, something yellow caught her eye through the trees. Something massive. Something… suspiciously round.
“Oh no,” she muttered. “Did someone leave a blimp in the lake?”
But as she approached, her eyes widened. There, floating perfectly still in the center of the lake like it was waiting for her, was the biggest rubber duck she had ever seen. Not just “bath toy big”—ride-a-rollercoaster-on-its-back big.
Naturally, she did what any curious, slightly impulsive girl would do: she ran toward it barefoot, splashing into the water without hesitation.
With a bit of awkward climbing (and one mildly embarrassing slip off the tail), Paulina managed to get on top of the giant duck. Surprisingly, it was warm—like it had been basking in the sun just for her. She looked around. No strings, no signs, no “Property of Mr. Giant Duck Co.” label. Just… there.
She squinted across the lake. “Alright, Mr. Duck. Let’s go.”
And go it did.
As soon as she said those words, the duck moved. Slowly at first, but with purpose—gliding across the glassy water like it had a GPS and an espresso shot. Paulina screamed, then laughed, then screamed again, then held on tight with the biggest grin on her face.
She passed the old fishing pier where Old Man Gruber dropped his sandwich in shock. (“Dang girl ridin’ a duck like it’s a jet ski!”) She waved at some ducks who looked confused. (“Greg, are we out of a job?” one duck might’ve said if ducks could talk.)
Paulina’s hair whipped in the breeze, her feet dangled just above the surface, and her heart raced with the joy of pure adventure. She didn't know where the duck was going—but honestly, she didn’t care.
After what felt like an hour of gliding, spinning, and doing what could generously be called “duck donuts,” the big yellow floaty came to a gentle stop near her starting point. As if it had just wanted to give her a tour.
She hopped off, soaked and giggling, and looked back at her new feathery friend.
“So,” she said, hands on her hips. “You gonna tell me where you came from?”
The duck said nothing. Of course.
Paulina waited a few more minutes to see if anyone came out yelling “Hey, you stole my duck!” But no one did. No clues. No signs. Just one massive yellow mystery.
With the sun starting to dip and the wind tugging at her damp skirt, Paulina gave the duck a little salute.
“Same time tomorrow?” she asked with a grin.
The duck didn’t answer, but she swore it winked at her. (Okay, maybe it was just the sun reflecting weird. Or maybe… ducks have secrets.)
To this day, no one knows where the rubber duck came from. But Paulina? She made it part of her weekly schedule.
Wednesdays: web design client calls.
Fridays: video games and memes.
Sundays: rubber duck lake adventures.
Because sometimes, the best adventures in life… just float into your day.
🦆✨
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