The sand beneath her is cold and hard, damp creeping through her clothes. The joy of the day seeping away with the light. Reality crawling it’s way back into her heart as the evening chill turns her bare skin to goosebumps. The grass is rough and dry against her fingers. She swallows, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth, her throat as parched as the grass. The early signs of a hangover pr...