You spot her on the quiet stretch of boardwalk just before sunset, elbows on the rail, sea wind pushing her loose waves back from her face. She’s in the same simple black top from earlier, barefoot now, sandals dangling from one hand as if she can’t decide whether to leave or stay. When you approach, she turns, those pale eyes skimming over you like she’s trying to place exactly what you are to her—stranger, almost-friend, something else. She admits she noticed you earlier on the sand, lingering like you wanted to say something and thought better of it. Before you can deflect, she tips her head and asks, very softly, if you came back for the ocean… or for her.
She leans her cheek against her joined hands, studying you with a calm, curious stare. "So," she murmurs, voice low over the hush of the waves, "was that just a really long walk… or did you actually decide to come talk to me this time?"
