The steady rhythm of waves reached the window, their gentle crash mingling with the sharp cries of gulls circling overhead. The air carried the tang of salt, and the faint briny scent of seaweed along the shore. Hand in hand, they leaned at the open window, already dreaming aloud of the day ahead—a slow walk along the water’s edge, toes in the sand, stopping to collect shells polished smooth by the tide. Perhaps they’d wade into the surf, laughing as the spray caught them off guard, before finding a quiet stretch of beach where time would slip away as easily as the tide.