The pounding of a heart
She stands barefoot on the beach, her skirt gathered to her knees in one hand, ankle-deep in surf. The foam draws small designs, like hieroglyphs, on her shins. Roy stands beside her, grinning; they have been throwing sticks into the sea for Hayate to chase for the last half of an hour.
As she bends to retrieve the latest projectile from the dog's mouth she stumbles, her feet slipping like small fish in the sand. Roy catches her as she falls; she drops the edge of her skirt into the water and laughs, leaning back into his arms and wrapping her fingers about his capable hands about her waist. Hayate barks delightedly—a new game!—and splashes them both.
It is drizzling lightly and the air smells like a storm, and fish. The beach is deserted but for the three of them. Still, they exist in all harmony, their hands full of truth, the sanctity of lovers.