Tiny, porcelain-white sailboats glistened under the afternoon sunlight. The mountains were slightly barren of color from the lack of rainfall this past Spring season, but they were beginning to recover due to the last few weeks of torrential downpour. The young girl walked on the wooden floorboards of the dock towards the edge of the pier; there she could sit and let her legs dangle down towards the warm sea. The lack of wind was unusual, but L’eila welcomed it because it gave her ability to sit in peace without getting smacked around by aggressive winds. She slowly lowered her body down onto the wooden boards, adjusting her yellow swimsuit bottoms in the process to alleviate the slight discomfort of having wooden panels scratch against her nearly-bare bum. Then, she gently let her feet and long legs fall so she could feel the comforting sensation of the salty Caribbean water flowing against her skin. As she looked out into the distance, she found most of the people on the sailboats — that she could make out at least — to be lounging around and basking in the sun. She wondered if they were locals, or if they were wealthy travelers stopping by on her island for a few days of relaxation before departing back to their lives of leisure and luxury. L’eila looked down at her fingernails covered in chipped red nail polish. She didn’t envy the wealthy yacht travelers at all for they saw her island as a mere pit-stop on their vacation; but for L’eila, the island was her home, a place those travelers would never know or love the way she did. She began loosening her tight grip (for balance) on the wooden boards, as her feet and legs descended further and further into the water. After taking a large gulp of air, L’eila hoisted her hips up off the dock and dived into the blue.