Prologue: The Question
I did expect to spend a Tuesday afternoon asking myself whether the most basic biological drive in the human animal—the one responsible for every single person reading this sentence being alive—qualifies as a luxury. A luxury is supposed to be a private jet. A handbag made from the skin of an animal that went extinct last Tuesday. A bottle of water that...
Chapter One: In Which I Find Something That Definitely Wasn't a Message in a Bottle
The sky was putting on its best show just before sunrise — soft pinks and golds bleeding into the blue like someone had spilled a paint set and decided to call it art. My private stretch of beach was completely empty, the waves doing their slow, soothing dance against the sand. I had a towel, a cooler...
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