Nov 7 · 5 min read

Anna sits on a rock ledge; her eyes stare out at the sea. Her hand swirls a glass of red wine from side to side. A fierce fire fills the depths of her blue irises. Lines of worry stretch across the whites of her eyes. Resting in her other hand is a piece of paper. She pulls the paper back up towards her face and reads the words again. She smashes the paper against her leg, and she takes a drink of her wine. Seagulls caw and flap in the sky. Water crashes on the rocks thirty feet below her.

