ONE

ANNAH PINCHES HER cold fingers together as the carriage trundles across the bridge. She shivers, gazing out on the wet night. Light, from cafés and bobbing boats, dapples the Seine, the silhouette of tall buildings a stain against the grey sky. The flare of the moon shimmers across the drift of black water, taking her back to another place, where the warm sea licks the sandy coastline. Squeezing her eyes shut, she wishes to be cradled in the ocean’s embrace again. Concentrates on remembering the hot grit of sand between her toes, the salt air taut across her skin. Anything to settle the panic that rises through her body.