My head bends forward, feet scuffle through pebbly sand, eyes sweep left, right, left. Not a big beach. Descend from Cove Road, heels slide on dirt-packed rock—go slow, don’t break another wrist.

The children mourn, the experts chide, Taro oversees.

I don’t know exactly when the ocean grew so angry.

You haven’t slaved at anything until you’ve gripped your knotty, weathered stump and pulled, pulled, pulled so hard that your trunk creaks and groans under the strain.

“Again?”

I ignore Ellie and choose a pair of thick wool socks from my favorite vendor’s cart. Two pairs, since we’re taking the subway.