Daniel:
She walks away like she needs space and doesn’t bother explaining it.
Barefoot. Heels dangling from her fingers. The sand shifts under her steps, but she doesn’t slow down or look back. She just keeps going, straight toward the water like the rest of the world can sort itself out without her for a minute. The wind catches the hem of her dress, lifting it slightly against her legs.
I stay where I am.
Not for long. Just long enough to notice.
The way she moves isn’t careful. There is no adjustment, no awareness of being watched, no effort to compose herself into something presentable. Her dress catches the wind, her hair follows, and she doesn’t fix any of it. The moonlight catches the strands, turning them silver for a brief second.
She doesn’t know what that looks like from h
