vacation (8)

Caleb’s dog barked in the distance, chasing a stick someone had thrown. The light shifted again. Dusk now. Everything felt quieter, like the world was tipping toward stillness.

The air smelled of salt and pine, that in-between hour where day and night overlap like memories. “You plan on staying long?” Caleb asked. Rachel shrugged. “Until it doesn’t hurt to leave.”

He seemed to like that answer, gave a small nod, eyes soft in the fading light. “Well I’m around,” he said, and the words lingered, gentle and open, like an invitation she wasn’t sure she was ready to accept. End