Naples was a heatstroke—everything humming: cicadas, burnt spoons, salt licking my earlobes. He handed me a bucket and told me to collect the broken ones. Shells split like lips. Jagged spirals. Rust-pink teeth. Veins that pulsed in the sun’s throat. The kind you’d never want in your pocket but couldn’t stop running your fingers over. He said the ocean spat… Read more →