Ten Days Later

The day after the funeral, the old man went to the only place he knew... the only place he could feel safe. He went to the sea. The sea shore... the beach, if you will. But if you live anywhere near where I live, it's not the kind of beach you're used to. Not the crowded, full of tourists, have-to-pay-to-get-in beaches. It's more like a small, hidden bank; with ice-cold water and rocky sand. There were trees all around, with flowers that only bloomed for one week out of the year. And in all of Mother Nature's irony, she had chosen this week.

He supposed it must have been beautiful. When he was younger, happier, he would come down here almost every day at dusk. He would take photos, or just sit and watch the sea. He was just out of college, and so eager to go out into the world. Now he was older, and less happy. He had less energy, he was less eager now. He shyed away from the world, now that he had seen what it could do. Once he had experienced it. All the sadness, the death, the hopelessness.

He came here with his friend once, the one that had died, when they were younger. He looked down, away from the sea when he remembered that. And a tear slid down his cheek. Because even old men can cry.