If beach-wind was different than the wind everywhere else, that was only because the ocean was full of ghosts. Not, like, real ghosts -- River didnât believe in those, not really -- but echoes, like fingerprints of everyone whoâd ever swam in the water. Essences. It was hard to feel disconnected from the world when you were standing right up against the biggest communal bathtub on the planet, smelling the same salt as everyone else. If she put her arms out like this, and closed her eyes, River was pretty sure she could feel the rush of it all.Â
It was also freezing, though. One of these days, she was gonna get a real winter jacket, âcause the zip-up sweatshirt wasnât much protection against goosebumps. River dropped her hands down to her pockets, where a lighter and a joint were waiting for her. Sweet surprise. She pulled them out to spark up, but there was someone there, all of a sudden, hard to see in the dark. It was -- oh, not a cop. Someone good. "Hey!â River made her voice loud, to carry on the wind. âHey, câmere! Check this out!âÂ
