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The salt-kissed breeze tangled her hair as Alice stepped onto the sunlit stretch of sand, her linen sundress the pale green of seafoam, fluttering just above her knees. Bare ankles led to strapped sandals woven from dried reeds, toes sinking into warm granules. She’d pinned half her curls back with a seashell clip, the rest cascading loose, sun-bleached strands catching gold. A braided leather cord hung at her throat, its pendant a tiny glass vial filled with sand from their first date. Over one shoulder slouched a canvas satchel, sun-faded and embroidered with starfish along the seams, carrying a paperback, a sprig of wild rosemary, and a jar of lemonade still beading with condensation. No perfume—just sunscreen and the faint musk of coconut oil in her hair. When he waved from the tide line, she laughed, the sound bright as the wind chimes hanging from the beach shack’s eaves, and broke into a jog, shells crunching underfoot.
