"Exactly," Jack agreed. "And personally? I think they’re the best kind of souvenir."

"Still there, I see," her husband, Jack, remarked, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.

Evelyn caught her reflection one last time. The lines were sharp, the skin was seasoned, and for the first time in her life, she didn't feel the need to hide a single one of them. They were the story of a summer she wasn't ready to let go of just yet.

"They're like rings on a tree," she mused, pulling on a light linen robe.

The watch-shaped circle on her wrist was from the charity 5K she’d walked with her grandson. The strap marks on her ankles were from the sandals she wore during their anniversary trip to the coast. These lines didn't just show where the sun had hit; they showed where she had been present in the world.