Lost Along the Shores

“What if the shadows really <> us to follow them?” she pondered, her thoughts dripping like rain on rooftop ceruleans... The horizon held no answers, only refracted whispers caught in the weave of occlusion.

“Do shells.... ” whispered Tom, glancing sideways as if speaking to an invisible companion. The sand beneath him undulated like slow tides, urging every grain to reconsider its purpose.

“We forsake gravity to float,” she murmured, as if attuned to a melody that existed beyond the aural.
“Shell spirals, echoing an internal compass,” he replied, eyes affixed to the sky's canvas of hue and dream.