My First Time with Mary on the Whitby Beach: Shattering Innocence
The beach near Whitby stretched like a damp wasteland, mist clinging to the air in 1980. Sea pulled back far north, leaving wet sand sucking at my boots. Mary walked beside me, blonde hair whipping in the wind. I’d tried grabbing her hand three times. She dodged, then let go quick. Tension hung thick. Her…