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The salt-kissed breeze tangled her hair as Alice wandered the shoreline, toes sinking into damp sand that sparkled like crushed opals under the April sun. He was leaning against a weatherworn driftwood post, smile crinkling brighter than the sea at noon—same spot where they’d shared stolen lemon ices last summer. Now imagine it’s *your* footprints marking the tide line: do you arrive in a cropped linen jacket over a slip dress the color of peeled lychee, bare legs kissed by the wind? Or maybe faded denim cutoffs frayed by a hundred adventures, paired with a ribbed tank top and that seashell pendant you swore you’d never take off? Hair loose and wild, salted caramel streaks catching the light, or pinned up with a claw clip to show off the tiny starfish tattoo behind your ear? Slide your feet into leather sandals still dusty from last week’s road trip, or go barefoot, letting the cold surf shock your ankles awake? Your bag—canvas tote slung crossbody, stuffed with a dog-eared poetry collection and a tub of mango slices—bounces against your hip as you run toward him. What does he say when he sees you? Laughs at the daisy chain crown wilting in your hair? Presses a seaglass shard into your palm, still warm from his pocket? Play the scene. Breathe it in. The morning stretches ahead, all sea foam and possibility.
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