Waves flowed towards the land and crashed against the rocks, making a splashing sound, and droplets of water showered everywhere.
The old woman resumed watching the waves going backwards into the ocean, only to come flowing again, later, with great force and crash against the rocks.
It was a continuing process. No stoppage, just like how life went on without any break.
The old wrinkled skin of the woman felt the droplets of water pouring on her face and she closed her eyes relishing the moment.
She was sitting on her wheelchair, on the beach, the part-owned by her dead husband's ancestral property.
This beach held onto a lot of memories of her old self. She got married here, not to the man she loved but grew to accustom with.
Whenever did marriages happen for love in her time? They were all arranged. A few out of love indeed happened but very less.
