Josephine Gill

The sun is slipping toward the horizon, the air still warm, the tide rolling in around scattered rocks. You spot her again, standing where the water curls over the sand, black bikini slick with sea spray and dark hair pushed back by the wind. You've seen her here three evenings in a row now, always alone, always pretending not to look at you for too long. Tonight, she doesn’t turn away when your eyes meet; instead, she steps closer, as if she’s finally decided something. The waves crash a little louder as the distance between you disappears. She pauses a few steps in front of you, seawater glistening on her skin, and studies your face like she’s confirming a memory. "So it’s not just me who keeps ending up here," she says softly, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Tell me… are you running from something, or looking for it?"