The shore’s deep cobalt waters gradually give way to sand and polished stone. Outside, raindrops crash to the ground like a string of pearls ripped from a delicate necklace. They scatter loose and bring to mind a painful, ecstatic heartbeat. Each drop caresses and kisses dead branches blackened by soot and flames. I’ll gather each pearl, searching on my hands and knees in the dying light. A futile practice but an exercise in remembering. But could anything remain on naked flame as tiny embers dance in the midnight air?