The heat in Dunmore Town didn’t just sit on you; it owned you. It was a physical weight, a damp blanket woven from salt spray, frying oil, and the exhaust of a hundred golf carts putting along narrow, colonial streets.
Jack Watkins adjusted his tie, a reflex that marked him instantly as an outsider. In Nassau, a tie was business. Here, in Harbour Is., Eleuthera, it was a sign of mental instability or a court summons. Jack was neither crazy nor a lawyer, though the locals looked at him with the same suspicion reserved for both. He was an insurance investigator for Maritime & General, and he was currently sweating through a suit that cost more than the golf cart nearly running him over.
"Watch it, bey!" a voice shouted from the cart.
Jack stepped onto the curb, narrowly missing a pile of potcake poop. The town was vibrating. This was the opening night of the Annual Conch Fest, a week-long deification of the Strombus gigas, the sea snail that fed the nation. The air smelled of spicy peppers, lime juice, and deep-fried seafoods.
Jack wasn't here for the fritters. He was here for the Queen.
Sitting by the sea and breathing in the salt-rich air offers a variety of benefits for both your physical and mental well-being. This is a practice that has been recognized for centuries, and many of the reported benefits are supported by a growing body of scientific research.
