The room was full of reproaches.
Sandra slung a bag over her shoulder and slipped on flip-flops. The screen door banged behind her. She’d only be a minute.
The long wooden boardwalk begged her to go barefoot. Her feet shuffled, slippery with grit, making the sound of soft admiring whispers.
Dune sunflowers smiled on either side. Proud mansions, the town’s vanguard against hurricanes, guarded the beachhead. Contrarian. Unphased. And un-insurable.
All Sandra wanted was a flat horizon. Blue water. Blank sand. Waves occasionally lapping her toes, like a friendly puppy.
For now, this kingdom was hers.
The sun rose, obligingly.