The Silhouette of Us
Under the blazing midsummer sun, the community had gathered along the wooden boardwalk, the air filled with the scent of wood-smoke, grilled oysters, and sweet funnel cakes.
Jillian Michaels stood at the edge of the Sanctuary Logistics pier, leaning against a cedar piling with a bottle of cold ginger ale in hand. The navy linen shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a thin silver band—not a luxury watch, but a simple local piece—catching the afternoon light.
A light scent of jasmine and summer rain cut through the salt air.
Clara Linley stepped up beside Jillian, her emerald sundress fluttering in the coastal breeze. She didn't say a word at first; she simply sl