Mist rolled in off the Atlantic, wispy and damp. It wandered vaguely around Ellis where she stood, gazing out to sea, lost in contemplation. Somewhere beneath the crashing drum of waves against rock, the distant mournful pull of a foghorn sounded its long low call. Between her fingers, she gently rolled her strand of pearls, thinking of Bodie and time and the quiet pounding of a thousand drops of water.
Behind her, past the drifting patches of mist and over a few fence rows, their small cottage lay empty now of all but a few take away containers and a box of cleaning supplies. She had come out this morning for a walk across the pasture and down to the rocky beach. Such a grand lot of rushing water stretching away sight out of mind. Its siren song her grounding point through all these years. She wondered if she'd miss it more than she was missing Bodie now.
Bodie had gone ahead of them almost four months ago. The boys had caught the train last week. Only she was left now to hand over the keys. She'd stayed behind to give everything one last scrub down and to make sure the last of their things made it into the moving truck. She would follow in another hour.
The timer on her watch beeped. Time up.
She let the necklace fall back against her skin. Brushed her fingers against her jeans as if to wipe away her muddled thoughts as so much dust. She turned away from the water, the solid rooting comfort of its presence, and walked away.
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