The sun warmed the sandy beach. Tia tipped her truck over. A mound of sand spilled out.
Tia patted the mound gently. "Hello, mountain," she whispered.
Tia scooped sand with her shovel and built a tall tower. She blew on it. It wobbled — then fell with a soft thump.
Her smile faded. She kicked at the scattered sand. "Stupid tower," she muttered.
Tia dug a wide moat around a new pile. "Castle!" she announced. She marched her truck along the rampart.
Seawater crept into the moat. The castle sank with a squelch. Tia held her breath and stared at the puddle.
Tia found a smooth white shell. She placed it on top of a fresh pile and tapped it. Ping.
The pile seemed to glow. Tia's eyes went wide. "Treasure!" she whispered.
Tia laughed and poked the pile again. It was just sand. She shrugged and picked up her truck.
Tia dug another hole. The sand was warm. Her shovel made a satisfying scrape-scrape sound.