Tommy sat alone, knees pulled tight against his chest, staring out at the ocean’s bleak, endless horizon.

The waves rolled in, each one crashing and pulling back, as if even the sea itself couldn’t decide whether to reach out or retreat. The dull ache of the sand shifted beneath him, each grain a reminder of how fragile his footing felt.

The urge to step forward pulled at him, to let the cold, merciless waves close around him and wash away the heaviness that clung to his chest like weights.

He traced lines in the sand that vanished almost instantly, erased by the tide with casual indifference — just like everything else, just like him. It was funny, almost; he’d been fighting to keep his head above water for so long, but here, staring into the vast emptiness, he wondered if he should even bother anymore.

The ocean was cold and distant, dark and endless, but maybe it could hold him better than anything else had.