The ocean stretched out endlessly in every direction, a vast, shimmering mirror that blurred the line between sea and sky. Billie sat cross-legged in her weathered skiff, its paint chipped and bleached by salt and sun. The small boat rocked gently with the swells, a steady rhythm that matched her breathing. She adjusted her grip on the oar, her palms raw from the hours she’d spent rowing

Her island was no longer visible, swallowed by the horizon hours ago. All that remained was the faint scent of coconut oil on her hands and the distant memory of sand between her toes. Out here, the world felt bigger, quieter—a lonely cathedral of waves and wind.

Billie squinted at the sky, watching a frigatebird circle high above her. “You better not be waiting for me to sink,” she muttered, her voice swallowed by the open sea.

A gentle breeze brushed her face, carrying with it the smell of salt and something sharper—something she couldn’t quite place. She set the oar down and leaned over the edge, peering into the water. Beneath the boat, the ocean's depths seemed bottomless, a swirling mosaic of blues and greens. A flash of silver darted just out of view, and Billie’s heart jumped.