They sat on a pier facing the sea. Her tanned legs swinging over the boards like a child’s, feet bare and covered with sand. He remembered that. He remembered, too, the silver bangle on her slender arm, how she kept twisting it thoughtfully, as if in silent conversation with it, every turn a response or a question.

He was thinking of ways to persuade her not to leave him, turning over possible arguments inside his mind the way someone will sift through pebbles until they find the one they prefer the best. He remembered the sheen of her dark hair as it filled up the lighter sky, lifted on wind and sea spray. He wanted to reach out and hold it in his hand but he was aware that such a move would be rejected by her now. She had built a wall that he was unable to scale. So he said her name instead.

“Marina.”

Impatience flitted over her features and he was amazed that he was able to see that in so little light. She let out a breath and it filled the space between them. Then she began to speak.