**She asked for the moon & the stars**
There was a cadence in her walk, a rhythmic one, he observed from behind. Much like the undulations of the wave that the sand absorbed. And with this cadence, she left a trail of footprints on the sand, and seeing as how she trudged on, the trail grew deeper and shapeless.
But her calves showed an attractive curve, even in the dark of the night, as the moonlight gleamed on the grains of sand glued to her feet, all the way up to her thighs, which bared through the white, knitted beach dress that covered blue tattered denim shorts and a tiny gray melange spaghetti underneath. The tanned brownness of the skin showing through.
As the waves came crashing, I found myself pacing up to her. “Always out of reach,” I mused. She plodded on, sight fixated on **A**, who stood right under the awning of that shack.
It was a quick arrangement, one that could only have been born out of a 20-year-old reckless, zany mind. And it definitely had the makings of an adventure. Two friends and a beautiful, brazen girl soundly discussing it, as though it was a well-meditated business transaction, one that was to enter an unfamiliar territory.