Coconut Grove nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy.

Under different circumstances, she might have laughed at his humorous description. But Druid’s lips didn’t so much as twitch. She doubted she would ever smile again, not when she’d committed herself to such a loveless existence. What was happiness anyway, except something else to lose?

I’ve never fished in the sea, she admitted, so my methods are moot here. I guess I’ll just have to learn. Maybe I’ll try your way. Druid gazed at the roiling surf for a beat, then looked back at him, wondering if he might like to join her and whether she was open to that.

It was a testament to how bereft and lonely she felt that Druid realized she very much did want his company, at least a bit longer. Speaking slowly, she asked, For the purpose of this exercise, what should I call you? You can call me… Her mind skipped through a series of names she knew: Sequoia, Witch, Mireille… No, she needed a name that wouldn’t evoke intolerable heartache, one that meant absolutely nothing to her. Penn.