In the semi-darkness, the pebbles looked like coffee beans. She knelt down to pick some up, running them through her fingers. The black sand leaving its mark like coffee grounds. They felt gritty like fine sandpaper as she rubbed her palms together, awakening a warmth in her palms from the friction.

She felt like she belonged here. She once read that sometimes you knew your happy place even if you’ve never been there. This was her happy place, somewhere she’s been to just this one time.

She was feeling an overwhelming sense of deja vu, like she’d been here before. The sound of the waves sounded familiar, the feel of the sand in her toes, the color of the water, even the clearness of the sky.

The waves were strong and the water would occasionally beat against her ankles. She checked her watch and the time read 5pm. She’s been on this walk for three hours now. Just going back and forth on the same half mile strip of shore, on a black sand beach in Tahiti.