Momo traced her own name slowly into the sludge, her jeans soaking up the rain that poured from the sky. She placed a torch on a rock beside her so that the light illuminated the writing. Once she was finished, she placed down the stick and adjusted the hood of her raincoat. The sound of the rain was deafening, it seemed, in her ears.

Sana copied, holding her own piece of driftwood and sculpting the kanji in the soft sand. Minatozaki Sana written big just above where the tide would reach, bathed in incredible sunlight. Though no water feel on her body, she could also hear the raindrops that fell around Momo. Loud and clear as if she were right next to her, becoming drenched.

It was a little funny, looking at her own name written like that in the dirt, Momo thought. It was almost as if she were a little kid, just learning how to write for the first time and using a stick and dirt as practice. She had to run her stick over the and lines of her name every now and then as the rain came down relentlessly. It was a shame that the clouds were covering up the moon. It would have looked nice under the pale light, the ripples and raindrops reflecting around it.

Sana couldn’t agree more when looking at her own writing. She laughed a little.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if we spelled it wrong on purpose?” She asked Momo, watching the ebb and flow of the water threaten to rub away her words.

Momo adjusted the torch on the rock and stood up to admire her work.

“It wouldn’t matter. Mine gets rubbed out every two seconds because of the rain. I could always just rewrite it.” She watched as the second ‘も’ started to fade away and knelt down once again to carve it into the ground.

“It’s a shame that it’s raining.” Sana spoke. And they dissolved once again into silence.

The sound of the rain.

The sound of the ocean.

The burn of the sun.

The cold of the night.

They liked it like this. Feeling. Feeling each other and knowing. Just knowing that they really were right next to each other.

Momo took a deep breath in and could almost taste the sea salt on her tongue.

“Let me guess.” She whispered above the storm. “You’re looking down at the water. You’re waiting for it to catch up with what you wrote and wash it away.” She once again knelt to draw in her family name for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“And your knees are wet and cold whenever you draw in your name again.” Sana responded softly as her eyes, indeed, followed the water up and back, coming ever closer.

Momo’s knees were cold. Her whole body was cold. But when Sana spoke, she felt the sun.

“What time is it?”

“7:30am.”

“It’s a shame you have things to do. I could be sleeping right now!”

“I know.”

Momo was sick of drawing her name in the ground. In the dirt; drawing like a child.

“I’m letting mine go.” She said.

So, Sana picked up her driftwood again. She drew Momo’s name underneath her own. She could still hear the rain drops. She hoped Momo knew she could hear them.

“It’s off centre isn’t it.”

“Shut up. I’m not perfect.”

Momo’s name was gone but she knew that Sana had written it again. Somewhere where the rain couldn’t reach it. She knew. She could hear how her breathing changed when she had picked up her stick again. She could hear the care and precision of her in the sand despite Momo’s knowledge that it was not centred above or below Sana’s own name.

Silence.

Breathing.

Rain.

Sea.

“I’ve got to go to sleep.” Momo said.

“Yeah. I know.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you.”

Momo looked up, and she saw Sana, standing there, phone pressed to her ear, driftwood in her other hand hanging limply at her side. In her gaze was warm. Her gaze was the warmth of the sun that shone on her skin, and her teeth gleamed in a beautiful smile.

And Momo was there too, standing just beyond Sana’s name, her gumboots, her soaked jeans with brown patches where she had been kneeling down. Beneath the hood of her raincoat were her eyes and her smile. The torch that lay on the floor brushing light against her skin, her name but a puddle of mud as the rain fell around her.

“Yeah.” Momo breathed.

And Sana pressed the red button to end the call.