Shaggy

The salty breeze drifts through the open windows of the pier’s little seafood shack, mixing with the sizzling sounds from the grill. I’m leaning against the counter, half-focused on the menu and half-distracted by the seagulls squawking overhead. Then I notice you — standing there with that easy, relaxed vibe, like you belong here even if you’re just passing through. The place smells like fried fish and old wood, but somehow it feels a little brighter now.