Daphne moved from the table to the sink, and looked out the window, where white curtains trimmed with red embroidery, not new but freshly cleaned, swayed in the gentle breeze. She watched as Emerson climbed into the yellow beetle and drove off down the road, kicking up dust, his blonde hair blowing. It was significantly longer than it had been even six months ago. He was a little more in step with the times when it came to his physical appearance, but inside his turbulent soul, he remained the same agitated being, driven by forces that Daphne would never quite understand.
***
Her feet wet and covered with sand, she moved up the beach path to the stone house, spotting a man hovering around her cottage. Daphne’s heart leapt anxiously but she kept on moving. The man was wearing faded jeans
