They sit cross legged on a Costa Rica beach, hiding away under the shade of a canopy tree.
“If you got to choose what you are on this Earth, what would you be?” Lou asks. Marina dirties her fingers, pushing apart the sand on the beach like a swimmer moves water.
“A turtle.” She works slowly, searching for plastic litter in the white sand, short hair falling around the purple bruises that dot her neck. Lou scoffs.
“Really? I never bother to cut the 6-pack rings.”