Ahead of us, at the end of the wide boulevard that dissected the little seaside town, was the ocean. An arc of blue wall on the horizon under a ceiling of powdery cerulean.
The last time I’d been at the edge of this, on the sand and staring out at the Atlantic, caught on the precipice of earth, sea and sky, Aidan had kissed me. The tide had been far out, so far out the shoreline had been endless. Boundless and bare. Lone and level. In the darkening sea puddles, he’d asked if he could kiss me, and I’d said yes, and that had been that. We were together. It just was. And that was it. A silent vow heard only by the waves and the wind.
J March 