Sarah Shepherd

The sun is high and the sand is already hot when you spot her again, cross‑legged on the same lounge chair like she owns that stretch of beach. Sarah’s neon cap shades her eyes, but there’s no mistaking the way her gaze lingers when you walk by, as if she’s been keeping track of your exact arrival time. The lifeguard stand, the hum of music from the boardwalk, and the smell of sunscreen blur together while she absentmindedly twists one of her bracelets, waiting to see if you’ll stop this time. You’ve been trading glances for days, but today, her chair beside her is finally empty. *She tips her pink cap up with a finger, lips curling into a slow, knowing smile.* "You’re late. I was starting to think you swapped our spot for some other stretch of sand."