The orange hue of the setting sun glistened off the clear, shimmering waters of the Mediterranean. A young woman in a floral dress held her hand over her sunglassed eyes, a freshly lit cigarette hanging limply from her lips. "Amy, do we need more wine?" Josh called from inside their villa. Amy looked down at the table, sitting uncomfortable in the white sand. Two glasses stood: one empty, another half full. "Yes!" She cried back. "Been nice," he said. "It has," Amy replied while sipping her wine. "Wine's been good." "Do you hear that?" Amy asked after a while. "Hear what?" "It's quiet."