He wanted to walk closer to the water where the sand was firm and cooler. He wanted to feel the bite of the early-spring Atlantic as the occasional wave washed over his naked feet.
She preferred the looser sands further up from the waterline. She was cold. The wind tore through the thin jacket she wore. Looking at the icy blue of the ocean made her shiver.
He looked up at her as the wind caught her hair, pushing it in disheveled waves across her face. She was beautiful. Still. Always. Forever. Time would never steal that from his eyes.
The sun glistened across the water and she had to squint to make out his shape. She saw more the motion – his long strides – than anything else. She thought he was crazy to be out there in shorts, feet getting washed over by the foamy water. She shivered again.
He felt the peace washing over him. The cold water sharpened his senses, but the simple act of being by the water washed away all the cares weighing him down.
She didn’t hate it here. She loved the ocean. She just didn’t like the cold. It was too early to be here. She hadn’t said as much, she knew he needed this. Still…she couldn’t help feeling.
He felt light. He watched the gulls soar upon the wind and envied their freedom. He thought about what waited at home.
She looked down at him. Saw he was up to his knees now, his legs never leaving the water. He was an idiot. It was too cold. She loved him anyway. That would never change.
He didn’t feel the water. He felt nothing. He drifted further toward the sun.
She looked for him again. He was gone. Her scream drowned in the wind.
