Gemotions

The ocean's rhythm was the only sound as they sat on the beach. He'd just finished a swim, and a towel was draped around his shoulders. The invitation sat between them in the sand, untouched. “Twenty years,” she said, her voice soft against the sound of the waves.

He smiled, a slow, gentle curve of his lips. He picked up a piece of driftwood and started to idly sketch in the sand. His mind wandered, drifting along with the ebb and flow of the tide. The sun was warm, and the air was filled with the salty tang of the sea.