Three friends

 Every Saturday morning, the city seemed to pulse with its usual rhythm of horns blaring, engines revving, and people rushing in every direction. But for Leah, Mark, and Camille, these sounds had become unbearable. The constant hum of the streets, the chatter of people, the relentless cacophony was starting to feel like a weight, heavy on their shoulders and even heavier on their minds.

They had tried everything to block it out: noise-canceling headphones, playing calming music, even yoga sessions at home. But nothing worked quite as well as the beach. It had started with a conversation one evening at their favorite café, as the sun dipped behind the skyline, casting long shadows across the table.

"I can't do this anymore," Mark confessed, his eyes tired from the endless noise of city life. "I’m so mentally drained. I feel like I always on edge."

"I know what you mean," Leah added, sipping her coffee. "The noise just don’t stop. I feel like it's eating me, little by little. And the worst part? I don’t know how to block it out."

Camille nodded, her brow furrowed in thought. "What if we made a pact? Every week, we escape the city just for a few hours. We find a quiet place, somewhere peaceful, where we can just breathe."

The idea was born on that quiet evening, and soon enough, it became a weekly ritual. Each Saturday morning, without fail, the three friends would pile into Camille’s old car and head out of the city, the buzz of urban life gradually fading behind them as the highway stretched out ahead. They didn’t have a set destination; they just knew they were headed towards something calmer.

Their favorite spot was a secluded stretch of beach about 20 minutes from Maracas Bay. It wasn’t the busiest beach, which was exactly what they wanted. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore became their new soundtrack, replacing the constant noise of the city. The salt air, the soft sand beneath their feet, the rhythmic lull of the ocean, everything felt different here.

At first, they didn’t talk much. It was enough to simply be there, together, away from the chaos. They’d lay on the beach, close their eyes, and let the ocean’s embrace soothe them. Sometimes, they’d walk along the water, their feet sinking into the wet sand, the sound of their own footsteps the only interruption to the peaceful quiet.

Over time, their beach days became more than just a weekly escape, they became a sanctuary. The regularity of their ritual offered something that the city couldn’t: peace. It wasn’t just the stillness of the ocean or the absence of cars—it was the reminder that life didn’t always have to be so loud. They had learned to leave behind the rush, the stress, the noise of everyday life, and carve out time for themselves.

As the months passed, the city didn’t feel quite as suffocating. The noise still existed but it had lost some of its power. On Saturdays, they would leave it behind, knowing that there was a place where they could always find their peace, just a short drive away. So, their tradition continued, each beach day a reminder that sometimes, all you need to find clarity is a quiet place, the sound of the sea, and good friends by your side.