Dan gets up early and the sand in his shoes from last night gives him a shiver up his spine. Laura waits, then rolls the doona around her and slides into the car next to him. They drive for what feels like hours, she slips in and out of sleep as the sun slips in and out of cloud. The sand underneath their feet follows them, from house to car to grass, then home again to where it came from.
He glides, lazily, greedily, to the left, over the blue.
She curls the doona tighter around her arms. The sand creeps in, it creeps in everywhere.