The sound of the ocean echoed in her ears, even here, miles away from the shore. It was a constant, soothing hum that intertwined with the whispers of the alleyways in her mind.
"You never told me where the tides go when they leave," he said, looking out beyond the horizon. She knew he wouldn't understand the pull of the moon on those waters, the dance between gravity and the silent depths.
Each gust of wind carried a fragment of memory, a piece of the puzzle that was their life. The scent of salt and seaweed, the laughter of children playing near the rocks, the rustle of palm fronds swayed by the summer heat — all of it stitched together in a tapestry of sound and sensation.
There was gravity in his voice, an unspoken weight that sank deeper than the ocean itself. Words unplanned, unwritten, yet profoundly anchored in truth.
She ran her fingers along the smooth stones scattered at her feet, each one a reminder of time's steady erosion and the beauty it wrought. Here, amidst the whispers of the breeze, she found solace — a fragment of eternity held in the space between heartbeats.
Echoes of TimeTides Unseen