Simon.
My Simon.
He stood beside a massive sandcastle I had never seen, laughing so hard his eyes were nearly shut.
I looked at the photograph far longer than I intended.
Noah pressed against my arm.
Captain Reyes nodded.
“Before you were born, your father used to come here early. Sometimes before sunrise. He built castles right there.”
He pointed toward the waterline.
“Big ones. Strange ones. One had a wall shaped like a whale. The guards would come down and help when the beach was quiet.”
I had never heard that story.
Simon constructed office buildings. Parking structures. Bridges. He believed in measurements, regulations, and foundations.
Things designed to endure.
Captain Reyes glanced toward the ruined patch of sand beside the water.
“Every afternoon, the tide took them.”
Noah ran a finger along the photograph’s edge.
“Was he mad?”
The lifeguard gave a small smile.
That response appeared to trouble Noah.