Sequoia Coast life in technicolor

While Esma saw John off, Boris held the camp. They'd dig a proper cache to store with food they'd caught that morning: some fish, a rabbit, a collection of berries pulled from further in the woods. He'd volunteered himself, largely because Esma seemed keen to see their friend to the shore. Secretly, because he wished she'd go with him, and he'd have the night to himself without the worry of every awkward moment that was sure to pass between them while they waited for John to return.

To his dismay, Esma did not follow John, and even worse (or maybe better?) when she returned, she gave him the same silent nod she always did and slipped far enough away he could still see her, and left him still felt the edge of needing to say something - but still having nothing to give.

What do I ask her? Where are you from? I've already heard so much already from when I've heard her talking with John. And she's probably been asked that so many times before. Ugh, I'm so boring! And I don't want to irritate her. What if she doesn't want to talk with me? Maybe that's why she hasn't tried yet? She talks with John just fine. I talk with him fine, too. But John's different, he's already a grown up. Ugh, I know mom taught me better! I wish dad was still here.

Did you know the stars are actually pieces of the moon? he blurted out, remembering her questions and wonders at the ocean, and thinking of his dad. It was too bright to see any stars still, but it was all his mind had to give.

He already wished he could shrink back in on himself and never talk again.