Sara, Sara So easy to look at, so hard to define.

Sarah sits on the balcony, staring out at the Atlantic Ocean, staring out at the empty beach. It’s 2 pm. She’s already drunk most of a bottle of Bodegas Toro Abala that was left behind by departing guests. Her vision’s blurred by the booze and the heat haze on the horizon. Tangier is a ghost,…