Seaside

It isn't really water. Of course she knows that; how could she not? Brains are funny though - look out on an expanse of endless liquid, and it tells you, here is an ocean.

Kira sits by the edge of the Great Link, legs pulled upt to her chest, exhales, and lets her brain keep telling her she should be hearing par-gulls and smelling salt; hearing the calls from fishing boats returning to the harbor with their catch.

She cannot sit here forever, literally or metaphorically, but it is only her twentieth visit. She can procrastinate.

The tide might come in.