MileStone #4 The beach shimmered like a postcard—the kind found pinned to fridges in northern cities, worn at the edges by longing. It was the kind of day that made gods jealous. The sun, high and golden, stretched its arms across the bay, glinting off the calm, glassy sea. Cicadas buzzed like invisible machinery in the olive trees above, and the air smelled of salt, sunscreen, and grilled octopus. Children ran barefoot between towels and umbrellas, their laughter like windchimes. Couples reclined with sunglasses tilted on their noses, reading half-finished novels or scrolling in silence. The sea breathed gently, drawing in the restless, releasing them renewed. It was, in every…