She wore a wide-brimmed hat, with her thin lips and thin hips. So wide it covered her milky skin from the sun. So wide it protected her from unwanted paupers’ gazes. Her arms were crossed, her lips were pursed, her husband was trailing behind her. He was the adventurous type, a free diver, an explorer, a conquerer of all things tall and wide and deep. She, was neither of the three. Narrow waist, narrow hips, narrow mind matched with a piercing gaze and voluminous blonde hair. She liked to sit by the beach and sip colored drinks with little umbrellas on them. She found them quaint.
Quaint is okay. But she was not to be touched by the sun! (It makes her freckle, said the beach attendant.) Not to be touched by salt water! (It makes her skin dry, said the beach attendant.) And most of all, not to be touched by natives! (It makes her skin crawl, said the beach attendant.) So she sat there, all day, with her leggy-legs on the yellow and white beach towels, her wide-brimmed hat tipped, her skin untouched, waiting for the adventurer to return with an adventure for her.