By late afternoon, the frenetic energy of the morning shifted into a warm, hazy glow. They sat together on a driftwood log, sharing a slightly sandy bag of grapes and watching the horizon. The ocean, which had been a boisterous playground all morning, was now a shimmering sheet of silver. They didn't say much; they didn't have to. The "Summer beach fun" they had imagined for months wasn't just about the swimming or the sandcastles—it was about this specific brand of quiet, sun-drenched peace.
On their last evening, Mira held up her cheap digital camera. “We need proof,” she said. “That we were brave.” By late afternoon, the frenetic energy of the
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