Miranda.

Miranda had been reading. She is not reading now and likely will not be reading any time in the next hour. The evidence is scattered about, a resting on the blanket that she had been seated on moments before.

There is a rather battered looking copy of a book titled The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It's pages are well-marked and dog-eared and she has contributed to its state. Besides it rests a book that reads like fiction but isn't, about a musician of some significance or great ego to pen something about himself. Life is rather a bold choice of titled, but she shall save her judgments until she has finished it.

For the moment she kneels in the sand, smoothing out a patch before drawing an outline around it. It is a rather messy shape, but she is working from the memory of maps she no longer has in front of her. She marks places where things should be with rocks and bits of shell, trying to imagine it better. With a little huff, she leans back onto her haunches surveying her work. Resting her hands on her hips, utter oblivious to the fact that she is smudging sand onto her dress.

With a rather petulant look, she shakes her head. No, this isn't right at all. Getting to her feet, she begins to erase her work from the sand, blurring the lines. There is nothing to do except start again. She is midway through her task when she catches sight of a familiar face making his way down the beach.

With a smile she lifts a hand and waves, calling out to catch his attention. "Hello, Eduardo!"