I wondered how many photographs lived inside of her mind. How many times had she turned the lens and found herself a new, bigger, more vibrant world.

As I climbed the metal steps of the Montauk Point lighthouse, those were my only thoughts. I wanted her to see the ocean from this high up. I wanted her to know the world went so far beyond the lines of where the sky's crease met with the ocean's endless drift.

"I hope you're not afraid of heights," I said, climbing the stairs behind her as she ascended. But she kept her focus on the age of the bricks, her hand sweeping along the brittle history with every new step.

A group of rowdy teenagers followed behind us and even though they probably wanted to move faster I kept the pace Everly set, climbing sure-footedly. I watched in wonder, curious how someone so quiet, could shut out the noise of the world without making a single sound.

She paused at the first window to gaze at the ocean, but was a bit too short. I would have offered to help her, but she moved right along until we reached the top.

And that's when I knew Everly's world had never witnessed true phantasmagoria.

"Take my hand," I offered.

She held stead-fast to the railing, not stepping even an inch onto the observation area. "It's too windy. Too high."

"I promise I won't let you fall."

"With both pinkies?"

I offered my other hand. "What other kind of promise is there."

"Timothy will flunk you if I die . . . in case you're terrible at keeping promises."

"Yeah well, I'm sure the Coast Guard wouldn't appreciate it either. Although they might mistake you for a mermaid with that hair color."

"I'll be sure to sing them My Jolly Sailor Bold."

"You're stalling."

"Ya think, Callum Andrew?"

I smiled and then took her hands in mine - a little surprised she let me so easily. But as soon as she stepped out on to the platform and felt the wind upsweep her long hair she instantly bloomed to life and let go of the fear.

"Otherworldly, right?" I leaned on the rail and stared out into the ocean with her.

Everly put one hand in the air, the other on the railing next to mine. "What do you think it feels like to be a bird?"

"If you're a bird who lives around here?" I answered. "Like you won the fuckin' birdy jackpot."

Everly laughed but cupped her hand over my curse word. My lips innocently kissed her palm and thrill grew in the pit of my stomach. I took her hand with a plan to lock our fingers, but she pulled free.

"So where is your house?" she asked, snuggly pulling the ivory fabric of her lace cover-up closed. She had denim shorts on beneath, a navy swimsuit, but it was all covered up, now.

"Aren't you hot?"

"It's light. I'm fine."

"I'm in shorts and a tee shirt, and despite the nice breeze, I'm still a little warm. You have on twice as many clothes as me."

"I'm half your size," she countered.

"Are you shy or something? One of those girls who doesn't like their Bikini Body?"

"One of those girls? No, I'm not one of those girls, whoever those girls might be. I'm not one of anything so easily lumped together for the convenience of a title."

I smiled, having a silent Eureka moment. "Seven."

"Hmm?" she asked.

"Oh nothing," I smiled. "Nothing."

How it Begins Is How it Goes Words from my childhood stopped us at the front door.

How it begins is how it goes It was cracked and faded. Chipped and forgotten in so many ways. Everly traced the letters with her finger. "Who wrote this?"

"Vandals. Damn vandals. You'd think in a nice area like this we could avoid such pointless crime."