Greece is the most beautiful place you’ve ever been. You chose a small, intimate island to spend your 2-week vacation, a place called Kalokairi. It’s a beautiful island, full of rocky shores, lush plants, and lovely people all going about their day. Everyone seems to know each other here, and most speak little English. The only time you’ve heard them speak English is when they sang together, some song you figured was called “Money”, while putting your things in your room. It’s a catchy tune. Once you were fully unpacked, the first thing you wanted to do was decompress. The flying, the sailing, the talking, it was a lot, especially with the jet lag. So you grabbed a book and a hat to keep the blinding sun from your eyes, and headed to the beach.

It was alive, truly and utterly. Groups of friends and couples were littered up and down the small beach. A few people were out on pedal boats, laughing as the waves knocked them against each other. The bar was crowded, buzzing with the clinking of glasses and the pouring of liquor. There was only one spot where you could be even close to alone, and that was a small lounge chair with a tiny table next to it. So you get comfortable and pop your book open. But someone catches your eye before you can start. Her laugh chimes through like a good witch. She’s surrounded by women around your age, laughing with her and seemingly debating this equally jovial group of men. Her red bathing suit looks almost neon in the light, contrasting her pale skin, brown bob, and deep sunglasses. Her hands rest on her hips, exuding confidence.

“Little boys that play with fire get their fingers burned! Now go before your mama’s come lookin’!” She teases, leaning in a little as the men laugh and scamper off. She and her posse watch her go, but her head seems to turn a little more to you.