The Pacific breeze tangled her hair as if trying to console her with damp, salty fingers. Eliza sat on the cold sand, legs pulled against her chest and arms wrapped around her knees. She wore frayed denim shorts, a navy blue sweatshirt with her high school logo, High Bluff Academy, and dark blue sandals that were slowly filling with sand. Even so, she shivered under fabric too light for the hour.
Her eyes were fixed on the line where the sea slowly devoured the sun, that last orange glow that tinted the waves copper before extinguishing into the deep blue of night. San Diego, normally vibrant, today seemed like a faded, withered city. Or perhaps it was she who had lost all color.
The air smelled of salt, seaweed, and farewell. Seagulls squawked in the distance, as if debating among themselves the meaning of her mourning.
