The beach restaurant was full in the early evening. An old couple was eating side by side, each with a glass of wine; a group of young women in their thirties collapsed with helpless giggles while a stern elderly woman, dining alone on a nearby table, glanced at them and frowned; a family of four, however, took the prize for being the loudest, as a young boy, no older than six, slammed his knife and fork repeatedly on the table.  

Tiffany caught a few snatches of conversation. “Henry, please stop doing that,” warned a frazzled woman with curly hair. Her accent was American.  

“Listen to your mother, buddy. I’ll buy you ice cream later if you behave.” This seemed to work as the boy stopped much to the relief of his parents.  

Under the fading sun, the waves lapped like the ticking of a more leisurely clock. The onshore breeze blew right through Tiffany, and she closed her eyes. Her hair fell loose about her face, tousled, tangled.   

Tiffany sighed contently, leaning back on the chair, and closed her eyes. She wished to live in this moment forever. No stress. No work. No worry.  

“Fany-ah.”  

A familiar voice called out. Jessica, she thought. Finally. The girl in question waved at her. Jessica donned a pair of shorts, a white top, and flip-flops while a pair of dark sunglasses rested on her temple. It was impressive that Jessica looked effortlessly good in any pair of clothing without even having to try. It almost made Tiffany envy the girl.  

“Hey. Have you ordered yet?” Jessica took the seat in front of her.  

“No, I was waiting for you to arrive.”  

Tiffany had known Jessica long enough to know she was pleased from the glint in her eyes and the curved tilt of . Although Jessica did not say so, she didn’t like to do things alone.  

The waiter approached them with a menu. The name tag on his white shirt read Juan. This ‘Juan’ must have been eighteen years old, straight out of school judging by his thatching dark hair and awkward demeanour. He cleared his throat before speaking, his tone slightly pitched as if he attended an all-boys school and was unsure of how to speak to women for the first time. His voice was heavy with an accent. 

“Hello. Are you ready to order?”  

Tiffany smiled at him, hoping to put him at ease. This made him more nervous as he wouldn’t glance up from his notepad, his pen clenched tightly, waiting to take their order.  

“Just a glass of white wine, for now, thank you. She’ll have the same.”  

Juan nodded, scribbled on his notebook, and scurried back to the kitchens. Jessica had barely lifted her head to acknowledge the waiter the entire time.  

Tiffany checked her profile from a small compact mirror. She fidgeted, adjusting the strap of her sundress, and applied another coat of lip-gloss. She soaked in the ambient music for a few moments, wondering what the words meant and drank in the fragranced air.  

“Oh!” said Jessica, eyes wide as she took in the view from their seats. “You picked a good spot, Fany-ah.”  

Tiffany beamed proudly. “I know, right? It’s great. We should come again sometime.”  

“Wow.” Jessica turned to glance at her in surprise.  

“What?” She felt strangely defensive.  

“Who knew that a few days at the beach could loosen you up? I thought that big cities were more your thing.” Jessica