Mallorca spread out around you in a horizon of cobalt sea, white sand, and ancient stone streets.

The taxi wound along the coast toward the villa, the sun blazing over the water.

Later, you walked to the beach. You didn't know it was a nude beach until you noticed the absence of everyone's clothing. You didn't really care.

You put your bag down, set your towel neatly on the sand, and sat there—normal, and definitely not naked.

The sea stretched out endlessly, waves folding over each other in soft, rhythmic pulls. Warm air moved over your skin. It was beautiful.

Then a shadow fell across your towel.