Charlotte walked on a mood-weird beach, taking it all in: sea-suds on her toes, salt-air in her nose, sounds of surf and engines--echoes, yes, and splash.
Charlotte held her sandals in one hand, touched her hair with the other, felt thin red fabric on her skin; and the breeze.
Charlotte wasn't happy, nor was she not-happy. She was. She felt herself to be. She sensed she was and had a self--and was walking by the sea.
And the breeze.
Charlotte felt almost at ease.