The first oysters of the season

I pulled the first batch from the racks this morning—small, tight shells, still tasting of salt and cold. The water’s been quiet for weeks, but the tide remembered. I didn’t expect them to be so heavy in the hand, like they’d been holding their breath. Left one on the shed step after sorting; it stayed closed, even when the sun hit it. I don’t know why I did that. Maybe just to see if it would open again.