Things that make the heart beat faster. The smell of fish in the air. Slippers instead of shoes. A plane about to land, its wheels skimming the national highway. Tricycles with legroom. Look. A new book with no inscription and an achingly appropriate title. Floorboards and bed frames that creak despite all efforts to keep silent. The pop and slime of seaweed against teeth. The boat’s steep ladder. The oversized life vest. The slang of nearby swimmers. The designated summer song on a loop. Sitting. Snakes lurking among the mangroves. Saltwater sting. Sand dollars. Absent starfish. Sedated crocodiles. Laughter. The book about to end predictably. Lightning unaccompanied by thunder. Look at me. The same tourist at the same table, three days in a row. Pearl earrings.