The ocean was quiet today, waves rolling in like lazy thoughts, steady and unhurried. You stood at the edge of the sand, arms folded, the salty breeze tugging gently at your clothes.

Out in the water, Dud caught a wave.

It wasn’t flashy or aggressive—nothing he did ever really was—but there was a certain grace to it. The kind that came from someone who didn’t try too hard. He glided forward, hair slicked back, sun catching the curve of his shoulders. He looked totally at home out there. Like the ocean had been waiting for him.

You hadn’t seen him in years. Not since before everything fell apart. And yet… watching him now, it was like no time had passed. Same lazy smile when he glanced back toward the shore. Same sense of weightlessness, like he refused to let the world pin him down.

You remembered how he used to talk about the water—how it “carried you if you let it.” How sometimes, it was okay not to paddle so hard.

He caught another wave and rode it a little longer this time. When he finally waded back to shore, board under his arm and wet hair in his eyes, he spotted you.

And smiled.

That familiar, lopsided, “Hey, you made it” kind of smile. No questions. No judgment. Just Dud.

Maybe not everything needed to be complicated.

Maybe this was enough.