“A distance hung between them now…”

“It’s over,” she said, stepping beneath the arch, into shadow.
“What’s over?” He followed, the straw basket rubbing
against his hip. The sand here was cold, dry, loose between
his toes.
“Over. Done with. This place. No time here, no future.”
He stared at her, glanced past her to where rusted bed-
springs were tangled at the junction of two crumbling walls.
“It smells like piss,” he said. “Let’s swim.
The sea took the chill away, but a distance hung between
them now. They sat on a blanket from Turner’s room and ate,
silently. The shadow of the ruin lengthened. The wind moved
her sun-streaked hair.