vacation (7)

“Yeah. But grief does not care about deadlines.” She smiled faintly. “He used to say that photography was my way of freezing the world until I was ready to deal with it.”

“Sounds like he knew you well.” Rachel blinked hard. “He did.” The tide touched their toes and retreated, a slow rhythm that felt like breathing. The horizon shimmered, gold slipping into gray. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The ocean kept whispering secrets they couldn’t quite hear, and Rachel wondered if maybe that was the point—some things were not meant to be captured, only carried. good looks