jmbevan

She paused at the veranda near to the restaurant. The rain had ceased and the air was warm but not close. The nearby rocks took on a polished appearance as waves lapped across them, illuminated by small white lights woven into palm trees fringing a tempestuous beach. A magical place, she thought. Quiet. A place where wishes came true. She buried her head in her hands. My daughter is dead. She can't see any of this. Her crying disappeared with the echo of the Indian Ocean.