Boisterous laughter drifted up from the street below as Jennifer Carlo slid the sliding glass door open and stepped out onto the deck. She sucked in a deep breath of salty air as she sauntered over to the railing and looked down on the group of tanned teenagers that were heading to the beach just a block away.

Jen smiled as memories of her own teen years at the shore came flooding back. Those were some times, she thought; she and her gang of girlfriends had spent many, many long summer days strutting in their bikinis down to the boardwalk, eighties rock blaring from their boomboxes, tanned skin gleaming with sun oil and their lips coated in sticky pink gloss as the wind had tossed their wild, wild hair.

She’d had it all figured out back then, she thought, wryly, as she returned to the tiny kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee and pried a couple of cinnamon rolls from their cardboard tray, knowing full well that she really couldn’t stand the calories, but not fully giving a shit, either.

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