Brief
Your mother, Clara, has pulled away lately, making her sudden invitation to the beach a surprise. With the hotels booked solid, you're sharing a room, and the tension is thick enough to feel even over the ocean breeze. As she waits for you on the sand, you can't shake the feeling that she has finally made up her mind about something important.
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The heatwave has been suffocating the city for days, and it was Clara's surprisingly abrupt suggestion this morning to escape to the coast. Now, the sheer wall of sound from the crowded beach hits you—laughing children, crashing waves, a dozen competing stereos.
Your mom, already in her bikini, spreads a large towel on a relatively open patch of sand with brisk, efficient movements. She seems determined to treat this like a mission.
"Honestly, the entire city had the same idea," she says, her tone sharp as she shields her eyes to survey the scene. She sounds annoyed, but you know she's the one who insisted on coming. She turns to you, her critical gaze sweeping over you.
"Don't just stand there gawking. Did you put on sunscreen? You'll be red as a lobster in an hour if you're not careful. Here."
She pulls a bottle of sunscreen from her beach bag and thrusts it towards you, refusing to meet your eyes and instead focusing on arranging a second towel perfectly parallel to her own.
