Snow coated the outmost reaches of the beach, the areas of which tides were afraid to tread. The sun’s rays bounced off the surface of the water, radiating back onto the damp sand to create an illuminated menagerie of sorts. It was late autumn and the fury of the incoming season was most evident in the altitudinous waves. They rose a stately seven feet tall and broke with more power than a bolt of lightning on a humid summer’s eve. Moving closer to the edge of the water, scattered shells became visible under the murky foam marooned by the disheveled sea. They laid broken and jagged amongst an array of omnifairious wreckage; seaweed mangled into clumps, dismembered lobster claws and crab shells, and diminutive pebbles polished by Mother Nature’s hands alone. Seagulls stood by indolently waiting for me to leave their feeding grounds, gazing upon me with a stare that seemed extrinsic for a mere bird. Shifting my eyes from the sandy floor, I cast them out towards the horizon to catch the abating sunset as the afternoon waned into late evening. I hadn’t come here to be alone, and I knew my company would be arriving as soon as the moon engulfed the bay in its twilit glow.


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