You sit alone, scrubbing your work-sore hands in the sea. You like how soft and wet the sand is at the shoreline, how it shimmers under the blazing sun.
It’s nothing like the dark red sand at the top of the beach.
You hope you’ve made a better job of it this time. Because you need to be alone, need time to reflect, recuperate, recover.
But in your heart, you know the rising tide will reach the red sand soon, know that the sea will reveal your sins once more, as it always has.
You won’t be alone much longer.