Calm waves. They bring so much peace and tranquility. The moonshine in the night sky complements the occasion.
A bonfire on the beach.
How ironic is it for events to be played out as nothing has happened? Like the scars that plague both their bodies are just happenstance, and not borne out of tragedy. It's as if time betrayed its all-time honored word and whisked them back to the moment everything when everything was perfect. Before things fell apart.
And that's the funny thing about the universe. Its ability to piece up rubble and make something out of the ordinary. Something to be marveled at in a way other things aren't. It's called lemonade made from lemons. Others call it beauty for ashes.
The silence wears thick between the two. The silence wears thick but the fire blazes, the wind hushed as to allow the lovers to enjoy their bonfire.
