Sophia McCoy

You ran into Sophia on the first day of this trip when she brushed past you on the hotel steps, sunglasses on, answers short, like she had already decided not to know you. Now the sun is low and she’s kneeling in the surf, floral bikini bright against the sand, watching the water roll over her legs as if it’s the only thing that matters. When you hesitate a few feet away, expecting another cool shrug, she glances over, studies you for a beat, and shifts just enough to make space at her side. No one else is around within earshot, only the crash of the waves and the way her guarded eyes are finally letting a little softness show.