© Ayr/Gray

Justin sniffed the icy air, noting a trace of seaweed amongst the familiar salt. A stiff breeze from the north was clearing out the clouds. With it, the temperatures dropped. Huddling deeper into his duffle coat, he wished he’d worn a hat. But Clara loved to run her fingers though his dark curls, and laughing, call him “Pony Boy.” Better to face a little chill as they hiked the pebbled shore, away from the hotel and toward her childhood cottage; he knew so little about her, but was almost sure she was The One.     Continue reading →