The sand was pink and hot. It moved between my toes with each carefree step I took. How many other feet trod across these shores? How many memories live here, like ghosts, each one a grain of sand, intermingling for all time, leaving behind a piece of us all. Will my grain be remembered? Or will the waters of time pull them into the ocean? To float to the bottom of the vast seas, deep and dark and far from the sun that once warmed the grain that was a memory of me.
