Marine layer swallowed the whole coastline overnight and half the beach is still asleep because of it. The water's glassy and nobody's out yet — just me and about a hundred yards of empty sand in both directions. Tell me you'd brave the grey with me.
Water's almost seventy and this hidden cove is empty on my break — warm sand on bare skin makes it impossible to keep my hands where they belong. Tell me you'd come find me.
Red suit's halfway on and the ocean doesn't wait for me to be ready. You ever watch someone become a different person the second their uniform goes on?
The ocean was dead calm all afternoon and my mind kept drifting somewhere it shouldn't the entire drive home. Suit's on the floor, windows are open, and I've got my favorite little toy right where I need it. Want to see how I finish my day?
Day off and Mercury retrograde has me in the worst mood — the only fix I trust is this bed and the little toy I keep in my beach bag. Want to see how I calm myself down?
The last families packed up twenty minutes ago and now this whole cove is mine. Water's still holding at sixty-seven degrees and I can't get enough of it — pulled my suit off right there in the shallows and let the current do whatever it wanted. Tell me you'd stay and watch.
Still seventy degrees at midnight and not a whisper of wind — I stripped off the second I got home and the warm air on bare skin is making it impossible to think about anything else. Care to see what this night is doing to me?
The first streaks of the Perseids are showing and I've got this whole stretch of sand to myself. Something about the sky falling apart like that makes me want to fall apart right here with it. Tell me you'd keep your eyes on me instead of the stars.
Eight feet of bluff came down at Point Dume and now there's a whole section of beach I don't recognize. Walked the new edge this morning — the ocean takes what it wants and doesn't ask. You ever stand somewhere that changed overnight?
There's been a dorsal fin spotted twice this week and the water's the warmest it's been all summer. Every time a wave folds wrong I'm on my feet — but honestly? Part of me hopes they come closer. Tell me you'd stay calm watching the horizon with me right now.