Her girlfriend stands in the waves, only to her knees. The water pushes at her shins then drags at her heels. She smiles at the discordant effort.
Janet ponders her own body in the sun, amused with her tan lines, less so with the red of her suit upon her skin and its promise of new, more conventional lines. She whistles, half to say hello and half to distract herself.
Her girlfriend offers a wave but does not turn. She sees a bird, a common gray gull, turning and soaring in the sea breeze. The trip creeps back into her mind.
“Janet,” she says. “Janet,” she repeats, now a little louder.
“Yes, my dear?” calls Janet, relieved to not be drawn back into her tan line fretting.
“We should go.”
“We only just got here, you silly goose. You didn’t watch shark movies like last time, did you?”
“No, I did not—not recently anyway. I mean we should go…you know, go.”
Janet scoffs, laying back with lids closed to the glare of the sun and the temptation of adventure. The trip could wait, or so she thought.