Sea Glass

She had smashed it against the jagged rock that day. The transparent fragments had scattered and surrendered to the elements. They had both watched as the red wine leaked into the fury of sea spray, crimson mingling momentarily, before being consumed by the vast expanse of grey.

It was supposed to have been different.

The picnic basket lay untouched beside them, filled with cheeses, fruits, and chocolates — all of her favourites. He knew that.

Seagulls circled above, their cries a distant echo. Nearby, children built sandcastles, their laughter light and carefree. This evening was to mark a new beginning, reminiscent of their first date by the ocean years ago. But now, it held the promise of the proposal. She had whispered about it with friends in hushed tones. During brief telephone exchanges with her mother on Saturdays. But mostly in sacred, private moments, she had allowed herself to imagine the shape and size of the engagement ring. The way the diamond was set against her skin. The way it would make her feel knowing that she was his.

She had always adored the sea. The gentle lull of the waves, the salty breeze, the rhythmic ebb and flow — they all brought her comfort. Gazing into the vastness, she felt the liberation of insignificance. Detached from thought, she could just exist.