On the seaside

She steps onto the wooden boards with nothing but a light breeze on her skin. The shore glints under noon sun, and she walks straight to the water. Salt spray flicks her bare calves. She stretches her toes, digs them into wet sand, then lifts one foot and studies the arch like she wants someone else to taste it. Her fingers glide down her thigh, slow, leaving faint pink lines. She turns, drops to one knee, plants both feet in the foam, and lets the next wave climb her calves. When the water pulls back, she rubs her soles together, sand and salt and heat all at once. She watches her own feet as if they’re the only thing that matters, flexes them, spreads her toes, then sinks back onto her heels, smiling at the small marks they leave. Every move is unhurried. The sky is clear, the tide is steady, and the camera never looks away.