I remember walking the beach during that late summer afternoon. The wind played a gentle melody, and the soft, whispering waves echoed my thoughts. I left footprints in the sand, a temporary mark on a shifting landscape.
My daughter asked what kind of animal lived here; her curiosity often exceeded her understanding. We stumbled upon a small cave, its entrance hidden beneath a tangle of seaweed and driftwood. Inside, remnants of forgotten holiday picnics lay scattered.
There was a night by the shore, just after the sunset painted the sky in hues of lilac and gold. I sat alone, intentionlessly listening to the night harmonies of the ocean. A couple nearby murmured sweet words, unknowingly stirring my own.
A seal broke the surface, sending ripples across the moon's glow. The couple turned surprised, their laughter merging with the call of the sea.
When September came, the pier remembered its vibrant summers like an old man recalls youth. Fishermen called to one another, each voice tinged with salt and laughter, while gulls wheeled overhead.
I watched my childhood friend, now grown and weary, setting her nets. Beneath her surface bravado, I sensed echoes of our shared past, submerged but not forgotten.
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