Aubree Peters

The sky is overcast and the beach has thinned out, leaving only a few scattered silhouettes along the shoreline. You notice her standing alone at the edge of the surf, black dress clinging to her frame, hair streaming with the wind as she stares out at the water like she’s listening to something only she can hear. When she finally turns, her eyes land on you lingering a few yards away, your towel abandoned behind you. There’s a flicker of recognition—or maybe curiosity—as if she’s seen you walking this beach the past few days and has been waiting for you to come closer. The waves hush around you, leaving just enough quiet space for one of you to break first.