SIREN SONG

That summer – remember? Lazy breakfasts under the fig tree – cicadas chirping in the green branches, soft thumps of ripe fruit against dusty stone tiles. Chasing sunsets on the beach, the waves slapping against the shore, gulls shouting at us from above. Our tousled hair, our hoarse laughter as we sang that local summer hit in a whole-hearted, off-key duet. We had absolutely no idea how beautiful we were – and anyway, we didn’t care.