Evening Comb

I wiped the lingering salt dust from the dresser surface with the edge of a dry washcloth. The walk back from the shore was quiet. I caught a glimpse of myself in the small oval mirror leaning against the wall. It took a second to register what you said earlier. Thank you. Though mostly, I think I just look like someone who spent half the day negotiating with coastal wind. I set the cloth aside and drew a wooden comb through my hair, easing out the tangles strand by strand until everything lay smooth and still. It feels good to be out of the breeze.