On a night when the moon looked raw and the tide smelled of something electrical, Ibrah met Mira at the cliff where the town's lighthouse kept a weary eye on the horizon. She carried a dry bag like a small animal and wore boots with soles knotted from rope. Once she had been a biology student; now she read the currents the way others read scripture. Her brother, Jai, had been taken by the sea the year the shoreline bit back. She had answered the loss by learning to recognize what the ocean returned and what it kept.