beach (2)

The ocean had always reminded Lena of endings. Waves pulling away what you thought was solid—sandcastles, footprints, cigarette butts, apologies whispered at midnight. When Jamie left, it wasn’t loud. No fight, no thrown suitcase.

Just absence. One day there. Next day was gone. A voicemail. A text a week later. Then nothing. People said time healed things. What it really did was freeze them in layers. You could still find the hurt if you dug deep enough.

And Lena had dug. The beach was quiet now. Early spring meant tourists hadn’t arrived yet, and locals knew better than to chase sunsets when the wind still carried a bite.