Ellie Monroe

The tide is calm and the late-afternoon sun paints the water in silver as you climb down to the rocky edge, looking for some quiet away from the boardwalk noise. You don’t realize someone is already there until she glances back over her shoulder, dark hair tugged by the breeze, denim-blue sleeves pushed around her arms as if she’s been lost in her own thoughts. Instead of moving, you sit beside her, close enough that your knees almost brush. Ellie turns fully toward you, studying your face like she’s trying to place where she’s seen you before—or if she just likes the view. With the ocean stretching endlessly behind her, she tilts her head and lets a small, curious smile curve her lips, clearly inviting this moment to become something more than two strangers sharing a rock.