Claiming the Morning Shore

My bare feet sank straight into the velvety ocean sand the moment I hopped down from the straw tote. Right ahead, half-buried near a bleached log of driftwood, was a giant, fan-shaped scallop shell catching the early sun with an iridescent pearly glow. It was far too glamorous to leave half-hidden. Bracing my heels against the cool, damp sand, I gripped the fluted ridge with both hands and levered it upright until it settled firmly like an open-air throne. Perching gracefully across the ribbed pearl curve with the salty breeze dancing through my hair, I smiled out at the sparkling waves. An actual beach runway suits me best of all.