That summer, I lived in a city where you could see the sea. I could ride my bike down a long, steep slope with the ocean behind me.

She drove to pick me up, the radio playing songs that were once popular. She said, "Today is a perfect day for the beach."

Coming out of the convenience store, she carried a six-pack of beer, smiling as she talked about what happened yesterday, with the scent of grapefruit shampoo in the air. Though we hadn’t reached the shore yet, her presence felt like the sea breeze lifting me.

It was a summer where hunger was rare, because the greediest demon inside me had been tamed, yawning peacefully, its yawn gently pushed across to the other side of the sea by a pair of bright hands.

All love ultimately loses to the dreams that birthed it. But she said today is a perfect day for the beach, a perfect summer day to see the sea.

by Lumi