Tides and Routine The waves always sounded different first thing in the morning. Some days they whispered, others they roared. Today, they murmured—calm, even, like the world hadn’t quite woken up yet. The chill of the early air clung to my skin as I jogged along the edge of the esplanade, breath rising in soft white clouds. The path sloped gently down to the sand, and my pace shifted as my trainers met the firmer, wet st...