Chapt. 7

Adrian's company had become undeniably wearying that Mason's absence drilled her core. When she had returned to the kitchen—after willfully evading with Adrian—the only thing left was his gloves amidst a pile of annihilated bricks and plywood. Where did he go?

Louisa crossed another pile to make it to the run-down corner, with which she was well pleased, hoping to sight a fraction of Mason on the seashore. But it was void of any soul.

Her boots crossed the tiny porch, headed onto the heated sandy soil where the palms danced to the rhythm of the wind and the ocean waves reverberated, pulling and pushing against the recently wet platinum grains at its reach. She was tempted to take off her boots and feel the nostalgic blend beneath her feet until Adrian showed up.

"Ah, there you are," his flip-flop imprinted on the whistling sand with every move, "you seem to adore this place," he remarked.

"It's serene," she retorted, the wind augmenting so much that it whipped her ponytail to he