From a Distance

She walks at the edge of the ocean like too many hours had kept their love apart. She smiles. Her feet gently dig into the wet sand, the place where, it is said, she was born in a clam and raised by Dagon into Arnemetia the goddess mermaid. He watches her from a distance like she never was his and never will be, his heart in her footsteps, his memories tangled in her black hair, his life ready to end like a delicate wave releasing its soul to the wind at the touch of her ankle.

In her eyes there was only one horizon, and she could only hear one song, the song of the ocean calling her to come back. Through the folds of her white robe sewed with the silver foam gathered from the november tide of harvest, the coastal breeze danced on her skin and carried her dizzying oceanic scent to him, to impregnate his sadness with yet another endless memory of her.

She already missed him. Because he adored her, he taught her how a woman is to be loved more than anything, he showed her how true love knows no sacrifice. But she was not looking back. The ocean was pulling her towards him. It was where she belonged, and time was not a moment too soon.

He watched her as she slowly walked into the water, slowly becoming the water. The ocean was now in his eyes. He looked again, but she was gone. He told her he would move on and live. But nowhere was he going. He stayed on the wet sand, his young body stretched out like a memory, dreaming that her fingers would reach and caress his feet, caress them with every pull of the moon, every dance of the stars, every careless wind blowing, every boat rowing, every dream.