He wiggled his toes in the sand, felt the chill as the water seeped up through it. It made his bones cold, his flesh numb. He stayed. The gulls slept in the nooks of the cliffs above. He sank in the wet sand and the tide approached until it rushed around his shins. His legs ached with the cold.

At the horizon the sun appeared, its reflection a fiery teardrop streaked across the water. The sweet stench of dying bonfire lingered. He couldn't close his eyes. He didn't want to. He stood and watched the sun climb out of the water.

He was alone, and missed no one.