Katherine stood in front of the wall for what seemed like the hundredth time that week. A distasteful beige stared back at her. Tapping her foot and resting her chin in the palm of her hand, she debated again whether to choose a light duck egg blue or a rich mustard yellow.

The dark waves rush forward, desperate to break themselves. Beads of shingle and salt feed into skin, raw and coarse from handling ropes rough.