A G34 radio lay in the sand, wet from the tide. Laying down beside it, Echo stretched her arms up, grasping at the stars that challenged the crimson sun on the horizon. She wore her classy velvet, that same one he had called the ‘rags of the rich.’ Not that wealth meant Roachspit anymore. Still, Echo couldn’t help but think of how different it may have been for them if they had a bit more coin before—