The locals called it "The Glass Pocket," a crescent of sand so white it looked like powdered salt, tucked away behind a wall of jagged limestone on a nameless island.
When he finally broke through the treeline, the sound of the jungle vanished, replaced by a silence so heavy it felt like a physical weight. The water was a terrifyingly clear turquoise, revealing every ripple of sand on the ocean floor fifty feet out. There were no footprints. No plastic. No noise. Paradise Beach
In the center of the beach sat a single, weathered wooden chair. The locals called it "The Glass Pocket," a