This is a writing exercise. It is 100 words exactly:
That beach was different from the soft, silky beaches of the Gulf of my youth. Beneath freshly painted feet were rocks, smooth and gray. The sun shone off nothing.
I watched his fingers press strings against the neck. Calloused fingertips made music for two people he'd give skin for and me. I watched him ignore lapping ocean waters met by startling cliffs and burrow instead into sounds.
He cooked over that fire with such care. He poured wine, equal amounts, into red plastic cups. My invitation suddenly came wrapped in gold, shiny paper and my name became written in cursive.