Amber Echoes on a Salted Shore

I can still taste the city’s iron and asphalt in my dreams, but here, everything tastes like salt and ancient secrets.
My fingers sink into the damp sand—a grainy map of where I used to be before life became a series of deadlines and neon lights. They call this place a retreat, but for me, it feels like an unearthing of something buried beneath the noise.
The sun is dipping low, painting my skin in hues of amber and bruised gold. It’s the kind of light that makes you want to stay still forever, even as your pulse beats against the heavy silence of the coast.
I remember his hands on my shoulders in that crowded cafe three summers ago—a sharp contrast to this vast, lonely expanse. Was it love, or just the desperate need for someone to witness me while I was drowning in my own thoughts?
Now, I am my own witness. The water laps at my toes like a gentle reminder that some things don’t need to be solved; they only need to be felt. I close my eyes and let the tide wash away the ghost of who I was supposed to become.

Editor: Lane Whisperer