Five minutes later, we observed their silhouettes in the moonlight — three men and two women — as they waded into the shimmering obsidian water. Ency sighed wistfully. “There is no better feeling than swimming in the ocean,” she said.
The four of us grew silent, allowing our senses to soak it all in — every beachy scent, each peripheral sparkle. The moon was high in the sky when the air turned chilly. We finally tore our gaze from the water, collected the chairs. We gathered images of the evening, tucked them into our memories, and filed them under the word “wonderful.”