Mafia's Nemesis
he called, pulling up a shell that was more hole than shell.
“Look!”
Nevena walked along the tide’s edge, letting the waves lick her ankles.
Her sandals dangled from one hand, her hair slightly damp from the salt-heavy air.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, crouching beside him to take it in her palm.
Junior stood with a frown, dusting off his knee. “It’s broken—just like the rest.”
“So are a lot of beautiful things.” Nevena replied, brushing her thumb along the holes of the shell.
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