She let go of my hand.
She walked back out of the water.
I picked up her shoes.
She waited while I dried her feet with the small towel I had thought to bring.
She put her shoes back on.
She looked at the ocean one more time.
She said: I’ll be back tomorrow.
She said it to the ocean.
Like a promise.
Like a plan.
Then she turned and we walked back toward the hotel, the two of us, the sand warm under our feet, the light golden, the sound of the water behind us.
That was the whole thing.
And it was everything.
