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Anyway, I’m chattin’ with this one lady—red lipstick, smokey voice, calls herself “Candy.” I’m laughin’, thinkin’, “Is this chick for real?” She’s quotin’ prices like she’s sellin’ me a used Chevy. “Fifty bucks, Joe, and I’ll rock yer world!” I’m like, c’mon, man, I ain’t that green! Made me mad, tho—folks tryna hustle ya, takin’ advantage. But then she winks, and I’m crackin’ up—girl’s got charm, gotta give her that. “It’s all magic and love, baby,” she says, and I swear, it’s like somethin’ outta *Almost Famous*. I’m half expectin’ her to pull out a guitar and sing “Fever Dog.”

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Finally, I get to the mosque. It’s all somber and stuff. People are gathered, faces all serious. I spot Ahmed, and he’s lookin’ like he just lost his best friend. Oh wait, he kinda did. The vibe is heavy, man. I’m tryin’ to keep it together, but inside, I’m like, “Why does life gotta be so cruel?”

Hydrodynamic Drivers and Morphological Responses on Small Coral Islands—The Thoondu Spit on Fuvahmulah, the Maldives