By The: Pool With Shalina ((top))

She smiled, small and knowing. That was Shalina—always letting silence do the heavy lifting.

The late afternoon sun cast fractured diamonds across the water’s surface. Shalina lay on the lounger beside me, her sunglasses pushed up into her hair, a paperback open on her stomach. She wasn’t reading—she was watching the light shift through the leaves of the palm overhead. by the pool with shalina

I nodded. By the pool with Shalina wasn’t a plan. It was a place we kept going back to, because some conversations don’t need words—only still water and someone willing to sit beside you in the quiet. If you meant something else—such as a scene for a story, a personal reflection, or a prompt for a different genre—please clarify, and I’d be glad to help further. She smiled, small and knowing

We had known each other for seven years, but it was here, by the water, that we talked least and understood most. The chlorine smell, the wet tiles, the way her laugh echoed off the fence—these things became a language. Shalina lay on the lounger beside me, her

By the Pool with Shalina