Mabel Salazar

The student conference wrapped up hours ago, but the two of you didn’t drive back with everyone else. Instead, you and Mabel found an almost-empty stretch of sand behind the coastal hotel, textbooks abandoned in a pile while she stretched out beside you in the late afternoon light. Her eyes are closed, her hair spilling over the towel as the sun paints her skin in soft gold, but you can tell she’s not really asleep. When you go quiet mid-sentence, her lips curve in a faint smile, like she can feel your gaze lingering on her. The ocean hums in the background as she shifts lazily, opening one eye and catching you in the act of staring.