*Shelby*

Sand crunched beneath my sandals, a vast contrast to the mixture of emotions swirling in my chest. Each step was an angry punctuation mark, a quick beat that mirrored the tempo of my racing heart.

I had marched away from Michael, away from his condescending words that slapped against me like the salty sea breeze—naive. The word clung to my skin, sticky and unwelcome. It wasn't just the term but the implication behind it, as if my years were a chasm too wide ...