"Good," I admit with a cough of laughter, "Fuck that place."

Fuck everything about it. The way it looks so familiar, but so fucking warped. This darkened, inexplicably ominous view of something I used to love. The sand doesn't feel right. The water's not the right color. The smells are all wrong.

It's too quiet, without the girls laughing and playing nearby.

Grabbing my keys, I pull him through the door with me, and I'm holding tight to that shred of hope I keep trying to shove aside but can never quite shake, no matter how awful things get.